


Halfway There

by didsomeonesayventus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angel/Human Relationships, Crimes & Criminals, Drinking, Excessive Drinking, Homophobic Language, M/M, Organized Crime, Rewrite, Smoking, Swearing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesayventus/pseuds/didsomeonesayventus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life of organized crime is what Xehanort has known, expected, and learned. It was no secret one day it would be his turn to pick up the family business, but what he never knew was that someone would come and steer him away from it and how much his life would change... for better and worse.</p><p>Rewrite of Living on a Prayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So You Meet in an Alley...

It was a vile habit that had been going too long, but Xehanort did not care in the slightest. The burnt and warm undertone of smoke curled on his tongue and fled from his lips, almost like a sigh missing the high from that first puff. It was soothing nonetheless, and he pressed his head back to the rough brick behind him with closed eyes.

The acrid smoke lingered in his peripheral. Ears picked up honks and chatter and purring engines weaving into the lazy yet vibrant rhythms of Twilight Town. No one paid any attention to him, huddled here in a dripping alleyway. He could already feel moisture sinking into his suit jacket, hopefully from the old AC unit toiling away above him.

His eyes snapped open, gold darting to see the burning stub between his fingers. He didn’t think it was that close to burning out yet. With a disgusted sigh (mostly at himself for getting so lost in thought) he tossed it to the ground and stamped it out. He brought out the small box, tapping it a bit before picking a small rod of tobacco and paper and putting it between his teeth.

He was just starting to get a spark when he froze, brow quizzically raising at the young man watching him from across the alley.

He looked to be in his early 20s, but not the rough and tumble early 20s that Xehanort knew. No, this young man hadn’t seen a hint of a seedy underbelly. Spotless as his white shirt and fresh, sapphire jeans. The only thing that looked rough about him was the jacket he wore- an old leather aviator about three sizes too big for his limber frame with a fluffy collar that consumed his neck. Otherwise he seemed like he walked out of a sitcom or commercial where life and people were expected to be like neatly wrapped presents. His hair was messy, but in a tasteful, styled way, and the color of a chocolate bar. His eyes had wrinkles not from age, but mirth. A mirth that meshed well with the unreal shade of blue they were.

They both stared at each other for what was likely only a few minutes that dragged on forever. Xehanort rolled his shoulders, trying to stand taller, glaring at the young man in hope he would understand the unspoken message: “get lost”.

“Xehanort, right?” He asked. Xehanort’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head and lit his cigarette. “H-hey now!” The young man said, “Those aren’t-!” As if to spite him, Xehanort took a long drag, and blew the smoke right at the boy. After coughing and retching, he lamely finished, “Good for you...”

Wreathed in what smoke was left, Xehanort leaned forward and hissed, “ _Get. Lost._ ”

The young man looked incredibly miffed by the lack of hospitality, but merely miffed. “Friend of mine told me to check up on you.” He told him very matter-of-fact, “Glad to see you’re aiming for lung cancer.”

“I said get lost.” Xehanort growled again, the graveled edge accented by the rawness of his throat, “I don’t have friends.”

“Got family,” the young man prodded, “lotsa family, Xeha.”

“Xeha _nort_.” He hissed. An intimidation tactic. “And if you’ve heard of that name you should know better than to bother me, so leave.”

The boy shrugged, “I like living dangerous every now and then.” He added solemnly, “Unlike you.”

“Excuse me?” Xehanort tapped a few ashed onto the ground.

“I’m not sure if you like feeling in danger all the time-”

“I do.”

“Do you really like it?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No, just be honest. What you know and what you like-”

Xehanort ground the circle to a halt, “It’s what I know and it’s what I like. Satisfactory?”

The young man folded his arms and pouted, making him seem less early 20 and more barely 16. Lightning flickered in his gaze, and Xehanort glanced up at the clouds warning them of a downpour. The stranger stretched a bit, then said, “Y’know... wouldn’t you want to settle down? Find a nice girl, not worry about death every single day...”

Xehanort rolled his eyes and took another drag. All the same tired drivel he’d heard from his grandfather. “Settle down, junior,” this “get me some great grandkids, junior,” that. Perhaps worst of all was the “I need family to keep the family going” spheel. Maybe he hadn’t found the right girl yet, maybe he just wasn’t one to settle down. He cringed at the thought of maybe... The family in fighting and drama that would result would not be pretty.

“Won’t get a boyfriend either.”

Xehanort choked on his own smoke, and his wide eyes were only wide for a second before he snarled. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Nothin’.” The young man shrugged his shoulders. He then pressed off the wall, tucking his hands behind his head and walking off. He tossed his head over his shoulder for a big, toothy grin, “See ya again soon, ok, buddy?”

“We’re not friends...” Xehanort muttered before resuming his meditation. He looked up upon feeling droplets, and soon found himself staring even as it began pouring.

He could have sworn he saw a pair of pure white wings that didn’t belong to any city bird he knew of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm rewriting this because tbh it's good just it's first draft written by seat of me pants so plot isn't as solid as it could've been and writing is kinda bleh SO plz enjoy me stumbling back through this in a vain attempt to make something that is 100% decent.


	2. Be A Pistachio

The boy would have been easily forgotten about in the few days that followed. Just an odd nuisance in an increasingly odd city. Xehanort had gone down to his favorite bar, a small, tucked away place called “Hollow Bastion”, when he saw the aviator out of the corner of his eye.

“Not you again.” He said, voice flat with despair.

“How ya doin’?” He replied with a firm smack of Xehanort’s shoulder.

“I don’t know you.” Xehanort kept his tone even. Upon seeing a person giving them looks he snarled, “ _I don’t know him._ ”

The young man scooted away, tucking his hands in his lap and cocking his head, “Ok, I’ll give ya that.” 

Xehanort stared at him, then asked, “Are you even old enough to be here?”

“I am!” He said indignantly. A water cup arrived and he thanked the bartender before sipping it.

Xehanort leaned against the counter, swirling his glass, “Why water, then?”

The young man’s face went flush, a mix of embarrassment or shame with a hint of stubborn pride and continued offense, “I don’t drink.” He continued pouting and drinking until he finally said, “I didn’t give you my name, did I?”

Xehanort shook his head, “And honestly I don-”

“Sora.”

Xehanort paused. Short, to the point, and bright. It was actually a very nice name for him. “Ok... Sora.” He said it with light reproach. He then asked, “Why are you insistent on being my shadow?”

“Someone...” Sora paused, licked his lips, “Someone told me to come help you out.”

“Oh really?” Xehanort mused, taking a sip, “Who?”

He didn’t expect an answer: “Bigger than you think.”

He leaned back from the counter and watched it in thought. The jacket was a good place to hide a lot of things, and the naivety could be a cover up... He smiled, then waved a bartender over. He pulled out a great deal of cash, “Two drinks for me and my friend here.” It was much more money than merely two drinks, and the agreement passed between them unspoken.

“I-I’m serious I don’t-” Sora stammered before a pina colada was put in front of him. “... drink...”

Xehanort leaned over, wrapping his arm around Sora’s shoulders, “Come now! We’re friends, you deserve something to celebrate.”

“I-I-I-” Sora’s voice warbled, and his shoulders rose, “I really don’t-”

Xehanort kept smiling, patting Sora’s chest, “You’re with me. You can trust your friend.” He raised his glass, “A fun time for the both of us, and besides I already got it for you.”

Sora looked around, then sipped his water, “I-I- You’re acting weird-”

“Your persistence has won over my heart, Sora.” Xehanort continued, ever sweeter, “You really want to be my friend, and I am welcoming you into such an incredibly close circle.”

Sora stared at him. Xehanort wondered- just for a moment -if he was really as dumb as he seemed. He then glanced at his drink, turned to it, waved his hand over it in a small murmur, and held it up, “Alright, bottoms up.”

Xehanort kept the drinks running, and after a few he stopped ordering for himself, letting Sora get more if he wanted even though at this point he really should have stopped. His cheeks were red and his arm bumped into things as they gestured wildly to accompany his prattling about morality and how people didn’t make any sense.

“L-look... Xehanort...” Sora pointed a shaky finger at him, “Y-you’re notdoin’ too good...” Xehanort absently nodded as if he was actually listening, but he had stopped looking for answers long ago. Sora was clearly of no importance and now it was just amusing to see how ridiculous he could get. Sora continued, “Yyyyyou gotta be good, Xeha...” Sora took another gulp of his liquor with wild abandon, “Y-you gottabe good or yer gonna end up in hell like- like bigger you...”

Xehanort raised an eyebrow when Sora leaned forward and held his shoulder, “T-that’s why I’m here Xeha I’m here to makeya... make ya good again... Gotta be a good boy... A good boy like- like that puppet kid...” Sora trailed off and leaned back to find the name he was thinking of, “T-the one with the cricket conscience...” 

Sora snapped his fingers with a triumphant word, proud he’d remembered the name, “Pistachio.”

“... Pistachio.” Xehanort echoed dully.

“Pistachio wanted real stuff.” Sora rambled, “A-and like we all wanna be real stuff, yanno? A-and you need a cricket. Crickets make you real.”

“Sora,” Xehanort said gently, “maybe it’s time to go home.” And so with a generous tip for compliance and a man who could clearly not hold liquor on his shoulder, Xehanort left feeling the burning gaze of the bar residents on his back.

Outside, the air felt cold. Sora kept rambling and squirming, insistent he could stand. “I-I’m fine, Zeke... I’m gREAT.” He hiccuped. Xehanort sighed and looked away at the vomit that followed. “Still good!” Sora wheezed after.

Xehanort scooted away with a disgusted curl of his lips. “So, where do you live, Sora?” He asked.

“Oh, weelll...” Sora wobbled, peeling himself from Xehanort and grabbing a ladder meant for apartment residents, “Jus’ falla meh!”

Xehanort climbed the ladder only out of concern for Sora’s lack of coordination. They passed landing after landing, and Sora only came to a wildly rocking stop at the roof. Xehanort looked around the city, hair flapping wildly around him, before he asked, “Is this a joke?”

“Nahhhh!” Sora waved his hand. He had a knowing grin plastered on his face, “Just a secretttt!”

Xehanort allowed his surprise to show a moment before he grinned back, “What secret, then?” Sora did have something to hide. This wasn’t a good chunk of money wasted.

“Oh...” Sora swayed, attempting to look mysterious and teasing but just coming off drunk and maybe a little flirty, “I got LOTSA secrets...” He pressed his finger to his closed lips and winked. He bumped into the edge of the roof, looked down, then looked back at Xehanort and said in full seriousness, “Y-you can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even... Not even your socks, Xeha!”

His jacket picked up the wind and trapped it before it escaped with a booming “FWAP”. HIs wide eyes glowed in the darkness, catching the lights of the city and letting it shine out. His grin held a crease of madness in one corner. He moved, and Xehanort glanced down to see he was stepping onto the edge.

“S-Sora...” Xehanort said, slowly, carefully, finding the humor in all of this long gone, “Sora let’s not-”

Sora leaned forward, grabbing Xehanort’s tie playfully, “Y-you just gotta believe in me, ok?”

“Sora-” Xehanort said before Sora gently pressed his finger to his lips, then his own.

And with a small wink Sora let go, leaned back, and fell over the edge with a wave.

“MY GOD!” Xehanort yelled, leaning forward to- well there was honestly nothing he could do but watch. A white feather drifted through the air. “My God...” They were stories up, no way to survive. He felt himself sinking into the concrete. This was far more personal than just shooting someone, he’d actually gotten him so drunk he thought-

“Whatchya lookin’ at?”

Xehanort screamed. Sora jumped a bit, startled, then laughed, “Duuuuuuuuuuude your FACE! I-I haven’t seen a face like that in CENTURIES!” While Xehanort stared, Sora grabbed his stomach and laughed to the point of his face turning redder.

He was a street magician, that was the only thing Xehanort could think of. An incredibly good street magician. Unrealistically good considering how intoxicated he was, but that was what it must have been.

Sora wrapped an arm around Xehanort, “L-look... Xeahsnot... You... You got a good path ahead man. You just gotta be like Pistachio. Be real stuff. Get yourself a good cricket.” He rambled some more about being good and doing the right thing, but then he finally seemed to understand Xehanort’s alarmed expression and asked, “Oh, oh y-you’re... you’re wondering how I did that, eh?”

Xehanort nodded slowly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sora backed up to the center of the roof, “dude you’re gonna love this.” He then held out some shaky hands, “Dude you can’t tell anyone, okay? I-I’m serious you really can’t tell anyone.” He muttered a few more “okay”s and then stood straight as he could.

Xehanort watched as Sora’s jacket rustled differently. Something was moving, rippling across the leather like a monster beneath the water and then suddenly unfurling... 

_**Wings.** _

They were bright white even in the darkness of night with the slightest iridescent sheen and so smooth they looked like polished seashells. They had to be at least twice Sora’s modest height, and the more Xehanort looked at them the more solid they seemed to become. Every blink sent them back to a hazy sort of look, as if they weren’t there, but Sora let them droop and sag and no they were very real.

They were gorgeous. But they were also wings. Real wings. On someone’s back.

“Eh? Ehhh?” Sora laughed, turning around and grinning.

“Holy shit.” Xehanort whispered.

Sora looked at him, “Uhh... Shit can’t be holy you dummy.” He giggled, “I mean if I bless it maybe.”

He then walked over, tackling Xehanort and wrapping his arms and a wing around him and making all sorts of comforting, supportive, absolutely uncoordinated gestures. “Xeha, Xeha... Y-you’re gonna be good. I can feel it, dude. A-and the dad is gonna put you where you’re supposed to be and, uhh... The cloudy things will welcome you to the angels and, ah...” Sora clearly knew what he was saying, as if he had said it many, many times before, but the message flopped around and words got mixed together. He finally gave up after a few alcohol-controlled sentences and pushed Xehanort’s chest in what was probably meant to be a gentle pat, “Just gotta be good, okay?”

He wobbled off, “Just gotta be a Pistachio, okay Xeha? Real cricket.” He stood on the edge, “I’ll see ya... See ya sometime... be a Pistachio now, okay?” He fell off. Xehanort rushed over, and saw Sora fly away. He almost hit a building, and Xehanort heard him yell, “Who put that bricky window thing there?!”

When Sora was gone, Xehanort quietly went back to his apartment and gave every bottle of liquor he had to anyone who wanted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAA THIS SCENE. THIS CHAPTER. :,) THE NOSTALGIA.


	3. Revelation

The following week was more tense than he would have liked it. Everywhere he went he saw that damn aviator jacket out of the corner of his eye, and he squinted at anything out of the ordinary. Prayers started leaping from his lips when he was startled, and he looked into silver accessories more and more each passing day (did silver even work on warding off angels? Was Sora even an angel or was he some sort of cryptid or freak of nature? What was he doing).

All in all his encounter left him more jittery than if he had every cup of coffee in the world, and by the time it had been what was realistically an uneventful week Xehanort was practically over the edge. Meetings had him looking over his shoulder once, twice, too many times, and even as he settled into his apartment yet again the paranoia had seeped into his bones.

“You’re so unreasonable...” He muttered to himself, hand shaking ever so slightly as he lit a cigarette. He’d burned through more than usual now, welcoming the bitter burn and convincing himself that it was relief rolled up into this little paper rod. And it was- the things were incredibly addicting and it was a relief just to have a smoke -but now it held a second layer of addiction in the urge to ease his nerves.

He huffed, hardly paying attention to the news prattling away on the small tv as he set his legs on the coffee table, “Really, he’s not real. You were just...” He failed to think of an answer. “Someone spiked a drink, that’s all.” He finally snapped to the empty room.

He heard a knock. A hollow “twhoom” signaling it was the glass balcony door. He was going to brush it off before he heard it again. Then again.

Xehanort took a particularly deep breath, trying to relish the warmth of his cigarette before the knocking became incessant. He sighed- or more correctly moaned. He just wanted to be alone, crissakes. He didn’t know what hooligan felt like climbing onto his balcony and knocking as if they had a right to enter was funny, but they were going to get-

Aviator. Brown hair. Blue eyes.

Xehanort screamed bloody murder at a pitch he thought he couldn’t reach. He stumbled back over the couch, howling about how he was sorry and how he wasn’t ready to die or go to hell and just give him a month or so more to repent and live his life please.

Sora watched him scramble and wail like a child with a mild amusement. He stuck his hands in pockets that engulfed his hands till halfway up his forearm and watched Xehanort scramble to keep him at bay- as if he’d entered? -and continue begging for... well mercy for what wasn’t coming. He took a deep breath, and phased through the door. If Xehanort was loud outside, inside was deafening.

“Xehanort.”

“PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU, I CAN GIVE YOU ANYTHING!”

“Xehanort!”

“ANYTHING! ANYTHING YOU WANT! I’LL GO TO CHURCH FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE-”

“Xehanort!!!”

“PLEASE JUST GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE-”

“XEHANORT SHUT UP!”

He fell silent with a small whimper from behind the couch. Sora blinked a little, then walked over and bent down to see Xehanort curled up and still scared witless. Sora sighed. Xehanort whimpered a little more.

“Dude.” He said in an even, stern tone, “You’re fine.”

His head snapped up, “I-I’m what?”

“Why do you think you haven’t seen me for a week?” Sora stood straighter, giving Xehanort room to stand as he surveyed the apartment. A wreck, honestly. Coffee table knocked over, pillows on the floor, papers in a heap. He bent down, picking up the place and waiting for Xehanort to make a move besides cower and make him seem like he was some sort of giant. He was 5’ 5” thank you very much he was not gigantic and he actually didn’t like feeling like that.

He pretended not to notice the silver haired young man crawl back onto his couch, hesitantly, carefully, as if he’d even forgotten how to properly sit on one judging by how he rolled over the back. Sora finished, but put his hands in his pockets again and turned away from Xehanort.

“Look, about the drinking...” He scratched the back of his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

Xehanort swallowed, daring to squeak, “I-I’m not-?”

Sora looked at him over his shoulder, “Nah! Nah, you did it out of an innocent mistake-”

“Do you even know what my intent was?!” Xehanort asked back.

“It was for someone human~” Sora teased with a wink and a finger to his lips. He then dropped the cutesy pose, turning on his heels to face Xehanort again. He watched him for a moment before turning right back around and flopping back on the couch, “Look, you didn’t know what I am, and I was the one who agreed. We’re settled there.”

Xehanort lingered on “there”. Everything else... He gulped.

“Yeah, that’s right, Mr. Xehanort Jr.” Sora said, a finger darting out to gently prod Xehanort’s temple, “Everything else is kinda... screwy.” He smugly jabbed a thumb into his chest, “BUT that’s why I’m here.”

“To fix me?” Xehanort asked, dimly.

“Yeeeeh!” Sora said, continuing to sound smug and cheerful, “You might wanna get some coffee, this is gonna be a long talk.” As Xehanort got up he helpfully piped up, “Lots of sugar and cream for me!”

Xehanort shuffled to making himself a cup, but when he returned he merely handed Sora a mug. He’d done so many things for quite a list of mistakes in his life. “Fucked up an angel’s cup of coffee” was not going to be part of it. Sora didn’t question it or take offense, so soon he was lounging against the couch and sipping a heavily creamed and sugared coffee.

“Alright, so about where you’re standing in this great, big picture...”

And what a long talk it was. Sora rambled and rambled about being a good person and contributing to society in a valid way and so many cross your i’s dot your t’s phrases, but in such way that despite the clear rehearsal it came across as genuine. After some time, he fell silent with his hands hugging his mug.

“You okay?”

A grunt from Xehanort. Prob’ly not, then.

Sora took a deep sip, deciding to give him time to answer.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s a lot to take in.” He nervously laughed, “I-I actually don’t go this fast, usually! But, you know, things were moved along faster than I wanted-”

“Because I got you- an angel, a paragon of virtue and purity - _stone cold drunk_.” Xehanort finally murmured.

Sora grinned, “It was fun though!”

Xehanort swirled his coffee and stared at it like the world was ending, “I’m going to hell for that alone-”

“Nah, you’re not.” Sora said with a casual sip, “As I said, it’s everything else you gotta worry about, ok?” He then stood, gently placing his coffee cup down on the table. He looked at Xehanort one more time, seeing the new depth of the creases on his face and the wideness of his eyes. The way his silver hair carelessly lounged on his shoulder, as if it was trying to ease his existential crisis.

Sora shrugged and began leaving, “Look, if you can just give yourself a chance to do something good with your life, you’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Xehanort watched him open the patio door, and with the rush of cold night air from the city came the rustle of wings. Sora stood there like that, as if to make a point. Xehanort just thought he was hallucinating, to be honest. Sora looked over his shoulder, winked, then leapt off the balcony and vanished in a blur of white feathers and wind.

Xehanort ran over, trying to catch a glimpse of Sora in flight, suddenly begging to ask so many questions, but could only reach out and grab a single feather for his proof that this wasn’t a dream. Long, white, softer than anything he’d ever known with a translucent look to it that bounced the light from his apartment back at him. He stopped staring at it and looked up, hoping to see its owner but knowing that was impossible. He swallowed at the memory of his constant smile, lackadaisical attitude, soft blue eyes...

And honestly a really great butt.

Just aesthetic attraction, he calmly assured himself as he turned around and collapsed back in his apartment to stare at the ceiling for yet hours more. He stared at it with a cigarette in his mouth and a thousand questions in his mind without an answer in sight.

Sora, meanwhile, alighted on the notorious clocktower of the city. He fluffed his jacket in giddy eagerness, bouncing on his heels with excitement. After looking for so long... His grin faded at the series of small bells that tinkled out of one pocket. He rolled his eyes and pulled out a silver flip phone, carelessly tossing it open to squint at the new messages.

[To: Gabe]  
[How’s the current assignment?]

[I dunno, u ask me Mr. I’m-more-omniscient-than-u]

[Very funny.]  
[Look, do you think he’s gonna be able to work out the right path when you’re scaring him to death like this?]

[I keep telling him he’ll b fine!]

[If he changes.]

[And he will! ;)]

[As always, you’re so confident, child.]

[XD]

[But that’s not all I have to tell you today.]

Sora paused. His stupid smile became a tight line. He stared at the screen (the silent, tense “[...]” as Gabe typed) with a somber squint. News always meant something was up. Something. Never anything that good, but he’d keep his hopes up for now.

[To: Gabe]  
[It’s about your assignment, Sora.]  
[We’re putting a new person on the case.]

[WHAT?! NO!!!]

[It’s been centuries, Sora, and you haven’t found him.]

[I’M ALMOST THERE!!!]  
[JUST A FEW MORE DAYS!!!]

[And you’re about to find only 1/2 the puzzle.]  
[The part you actually care about.]  
[But what about him?]  
[He’s a threat, Sora, and you haven’t even gotten close.]

[I’ve gotten close plenty of times!!!]  
[He’ll get what’s coming when he stops slipping out of reach.]

[Exactly. No progress.]

[It’s MY case, Gabe.]  
[You know why.]

[And you can’t handle it on your own.]

[I /NEED/ to handle it on my own!!!!!!!!!!]

[Look, the kid’s a newbie, but he’s got a great sniffer for demons.]

[A NEWBIE?!?!?!?!]

[He’s gotten as far as you in a couple days.]

[BULL.]

[It’s probably because he used to be human. Already has a nose for sin.]

[But enough purity to Convert?!]  
[Quit pulling my leg.]  
[this isn’t funny.]

[Kid died young.]  
[About 16-17 years old about a decade ago.]  
[Got bored, wanted to do things with his afterlife.]  
[So now we’re putting him on your case.]

[THIS ISN’T FUNNY.]

Sora’s hand was white on his phone. He was already bending the casing ever so slightly. His jaw was locked and tears burned with anger in his eyes. No way. They couldn’t have someone else run this case, they couldn’t DO that. Not when he knew just what happened, just what the fucker looked like-

[To: Gabe]  
[Sora. Calm down.]  
[I swear, one of these days you’re going to be too full of sin to stay with us.]

[YOU’RE GIVING THIS CASE TO A FUCKING KID.]

[Sora.]  
[Calm.]  
[DOWN.]  
[That is an ORDER.]

Like hell he was going to calm down. Like hell he was going to let this slide. But his trembling subsided, the fire in his heart became embers that left a hollow coldness. Tears slid over but he wiped them up with his jacket sleeve.

[To: Gabe]  
[I know you’re upset,]  
[but we also need progress.]  
[The justice you seek cannot be attained on your own.]

[But you can’t]  
[you can’t.]

[Think of it as help, child.]  
[Even the strongest cannot stand on their own forever.]

[I need to do this on my own!!]  
[It won’t count if I get help!]

[It will.]

Sora flipped the phone closed and stuffed it in his pocket. He almost threw it. They couldn’t do this to him, they just couldn’t. They knew everything but they couldn’t understand. His head spun, so he leaned over the edge, fell for a bit, then joined the equally dizzying rush of flight.

His jacket in the wind sounded like cannon fire in his ears. Next action? Where to go? Fuck if he knew. The winds and clouds didn’t have an answer either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really fun writing in plot points that make a comeback and weaving in things to keep in mind for later tbh!!!


	4. Tag Along

Xehanort cracked his knuckles before slipping on the brass pair of them to make sure they still fit. Of course it always came to this, having to get personal with clients his grandfather couldn’t. Today was just another job for him. He’d been given plenty of assignments, mostly young men who didn’t understand the debts they’d be taking on and inevitably failing to repay. He put the brass knuckles in his pocket with a firm nod. Just another day at work.

So with his hands in his pockets Xehanort made his way to where Ansem would pick him up. After all, he couldn’t have his apartment associated with the illegal work he did, even if it paid the bills. He seated himself at the corner of the sandlot where the local youth played their silly struggle games in an attempt to hone their skill for that one in a million chance of being an athlete by profession. His patience for his ride was evident from the way he laid still as a statue against a light pole with only the occasional cough as cigarette smoke danced around him.

“Those really will kill you, you know.”

His eyes snapped open as he realized Sora had come to pester him yet again.

“Peace. Just one day of peace.” He sighed, “That’s all I ask.”

Sora wagged a finger at him, “Nuh uh, you’re not getting it.” The wink was practically expected now as he said, “I left you alone for a whole week! We got catching up to do.”

“Don’t you have some other sinner to pester?” Xehanort snapped.

“Sure, there’s plenty.” Sora shrugged, something nonchalant while his grin ate about as much shit as a dung beetle, “But YOU’RE the one I gotta pester.”

Xehanort yanked out his cigarette and hissed, “I have work today, so if you don’t mind we can have our existential chatting-”

A shabby little cab pulled up to the two of them, and the window rolled down. “Cab for one.” The man said in a silky baritone. He seemed to be about 30 with the same dark skin as Xehanort, but rather than an anomaly like Xehanort his hair seemed to be turning grey with age.

Xehanort’s eyes darted between cab and angel before he opened the door and got in. Sora followed, and the man’s hand darted out, “ONE, kiddo. Get lost.”

“I’m a friend!” Sora protested.

Xehanort saw the glare through the rearview mirror. Forced onto his toes, he stammered, “Y-yes. He’s a friend.” He leaned forward and added quieter, “He won’t interfere. I’ll make sure of that.”

And so the shabby little taxi putted along. Xehanort kept his gaze turned from Sora and kept smoking, hands jittering at the prospect of what he had just allowed. Then again who was Sora? Someone way out of his league. So for now he could only ease himself with his best choice and smoke that smothered him like bees in a hive.

The driver looked back at him in the mirror. He shrugged.

Their tense conversation was interrupted when Sora finally rolled down a window, gagging. “Really...” He wheezed, “ _Stop_ that!”

“Can’t tell me how to do everything with my life.” Xehanort bit back in a dry voice. He caught the driver chuckling and glared. The taximan only shook his head and continued laughing.

“You keep finding people who understand nothing, hmm child?” He asked Xehanort.

Sora seemed to miss such subtleties and indignantly said, “I’m not a kid-” before Xehanort tossed a cigarette butt out the window.

“That was an apt nomination when I was _actually_ a child, Uncle Ansem.” His voice growled, raw and burnt.

The driver waved his hand, “Well, nephew doesn’t have the same ring to it, and junior is so uninspired.” He leaned back in his seat, “We’re a cut above such trite epithets, aren’t we?” Xehanort saw golden eyes shift to Sora; Sora stared defiantly back. “But your friend is right,” Ansem conceded, “Don’t puff too many of those at once.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Xehanort hissed, but he finally pocketed the box.

The cab pulled up to a forgotten warehouse. Boards crissed and crossed, occasionally swung wildly towards anyone who would dare pass by a moaning draft of wind. Some of them were bent under the weight, others were chained up. Glass seemed to be as commonplace as the gravel around it.

“Here.” Ansem said.

Xehanort paused a moment, glancing around before bringing his brass knuckles back out again and getting out of the cab. He looked back to discuss matters with Ansem, but found himself distracted by Sora’s eyes. Large, blue, pleading, innocent like the newborn clambering out of the car. He rolled his eyes, and mouthed, “You wanted to come along.”

He shook his head, then said, “See you in a few minutes, uncle.” He cracked his knuckles, “This should be very quick.” He turned from the cab and walked forward, and gravel continued crunching behind him as Sora’s voice couldn’t even articulate a question. He stopped, sighing deeply. He turned on Sora, pointing at him and growling, “You wanted to follow me, so don’t complain.”

“I’m not complaining!” Sora snapped, “I haven’t even said anything!”

“Knowing what you _are_ ,” Xehanort reached forward and fluffed Sora’s jacket, “I know roughly what you’re going to say.”

Sora’s face only darkened when he touched the jacket, rather than the scathing words. “And we’re turning right around and doing something more productive than....” He threw up his hands, “Whatever this is.”

“Staying with me is permittable,” Xehanort said as he turned to the warehouse, “but sadly that is where your hold on me ends.”

He grabbed a board- crossed with a bright, hot pink X as if to mark where to strike the building when it would be finally torn down -and pushed it aside. 

Sora was about to follow when he heard the taxi door open one more time, and turned around to see Ansem handing him a black card. “The door to darkness is always open.” Sora flipped it between his fingers. An empty, black card. He then skittered over to Xehanort, realizing he was falling behind.

The young man coldly glanced back, a cold look either moving Sora along or keeping him out, it was hard to say which. The two ducked into some sort of atrium- far from the entirety of the abandoned warehouse -and Sora watched as Xehanort nodded to two figures in black hoods. One of them held only frowns, the other seemed to deal out only knowing smiles.

“Do we need to wait for him to show up?” Xehanort asked.

“No, he’s been waiting here much longer than us.” Frowner said. His voice was dry, even, whispery.

“He fell for the ‘negotiation’ very easily. His ignorance makes our work so much easier.” Smiles said, just as dry but almost sing song.

They both turned to Sora.

“Picking up stray puppies?” Frowns muttered.

“More pieces for the game.” Smiles chuckled.

“New friend of mine,” Xehanort said brusquely, “Now, I do need to inform him of our protocols.”

He grabbed Sora by the arm and lead him somewhere quieter. Sora heard the voices of Xehanort’s apparent lackeys but also another voice, frantic, muttering. He shuddered at the heavy, dank tone of the air. “You’re gonna make me sick...” He muttered, “I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull-”

“Teaching this young man a lesson and thus doing the work that pays the bills for my apartment.” Xehanort cut Sora off. He scoffed at Sora’s following pout, “Look, I enforce the rules of the family business, they pay for a place to live. I think shelter and a moderately comfortable life is worth ruining a life or two.”

Sora’s eyes were already a cold color, but now they were ice. “And after all the effort I’m putting in for you.”

“Hardly any, haven’t you just started?” Xehanort scoffed.

“All the effort I’m GOING to put in you.” Sora somewhat corrected himself, “Why do you think I’m even here?”

Xehanort shook his head, “Because while I don’t think it is wise to deny someone of your... nature, I can at least refute your stance on the morality of my actions until you actually try and stop me.” He folded his arms, eyes suddenly narrowing, “... Can you even stop me?”

Sora leaned back and looked at a suddenly interesting scrap of metal. His lips pursed into a deep and frowning pout.

“You can’t-” Xehanort couldn’t even finish his words, face curling with triumphant delight, “You can't stop me, can you?”

“No!” Sora groaned, tossing his hands up and shaking his head violently, “I can argue with you, but actually forcing you to listen isn’t allowed.” He then scoffed, “Specifically I can’t interfere with your free will. If you wanna damn yourself then fine.”

Xehanort smiled. He waved his hand, “Well, we can speculate over the morality and semantics of our situations later, but for now, I’d like to have a roof over my head.” He walked back over to his comrades, adding, “Now, look, you’re my responsibility, so if you want you can stay outside, keep a lookout-”

“Fat chance.” Sora spat, “I’m sticking to you like glue.”

Smiles and Frowns looked at him. Sora saw bits of dyed hair: Smiles had a dingy, off-putting shade of pink and Frowns had apparently decided bright electric blue wasn’t going to be unnerving against his pale skin. Sora saw Frowns sneer, a decidedly not friendly look.

“Is he going to play hero?”

“Y-” Sora said before Xehanort smacked him.

“If he does,” He hissed in Sora’s face, “then I’m not going to allow it.”

Sora stared at him, then sighed, “Fine, I’ll just watch.”

Xehanort nodded, “Good.” He turned to Frowns and Smiles, “Saix, Marluxia, let’s get down to business.”

The main warehouse had one young man pacing, muttering on the phone, shoulders hunched and body shaking. Sora pegged him as pretty young, from the styled poof of his sandy hair and stringy bangs and the haphazard sweatpants over dusty sneakers. He noticed Xehanort and his posse and froze. He managed a strained smile before squeaking, “Talk to ya later.”

He stuffed the phone away and clapped his hands, back too straight and brows furrowed against his cheery and nervous, “HEEEY...! Xehanort, Sai, Marly! How’s it going?”

“Two weeks over our deal.” Xehanort said without skipping a beat or displaying any heart.

“L-look this stuff takes networking! It was slow but now it’s really kicking off!” He protested.

“And you said you could take our Materia and turn a profit on it in one month.” Xehanort said, walking forward now at lackadaisical pace, “We graciously gave you two more weeks, yet haven’t heard a word since, Demyx.” The echoing click of the end of his footsteps seemed casual yet meticulously planned.

Demyx scoffed, eyes darting, “Hey, look, it’s hard to get people knowin’ you got the goods when you gotta keep everyone from cops to the stinkin’ King’s Glaive off your back!”

“We have no issue.” Saix hissed.

Marluxia nodded.

“W-well I’m not you guys!” Demyx said again, hands burrowing in pockets. He shrugged, “I did manage to break even with stock to spare, so if you give me two more weeks you’re gonna see a wise investment-”

“A whole month after you said.” Xehanort said dryly.

“Well, yeah...” Demyx scratched the back of his head, “Y-you’re gonna give me it, right? This was a negotiation, after all.”

Xehanort smiled. “Why yes...” He said slowly, “This was.” Demyx gulped as Xehanort waved his hand around, armed status on full display. “Our proposition is that if you need another two weeks, then you need to pay up with something, Demyx. Perhaps that pretty face of yours-”

“Nu uh no way!” Demyx said, backing up now and voice cracking, one hand waving about, “C-come on guys we can work this out-”

Sora had kept to his word on just watching, and so was the first to notice what Demyx was doing with his other hand. He bolted for Xehanort, yelling, “HE’S GOT A GUN!”

The warehouse roared with the resulting bang, and the several more that followed as a gunfight broke out, but Sora was already running with Xehanort in tow. He was being dragged along a set of stairs by one hand, the other grabbing the railing and trying to steady himself on the rickety and fragile steps. Xehanort’s ears were ringing. Sora’s lips were moving, but there wasn’t a sound. The firing below didn’t help Xehanort recover in the slightest.

“Sora, do you know I can’t-”

Sora scooped him up bridal style and jumped out a window.

Xehanort screamed a level of bloody murder that had somehow remained untouched as Sora’s wings carried them far, far away and over the city and into the clouds and-

“PUT ME DOWN!!!” He howled, “PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!”

“You’re fine-” Sora said dismissively before Xehanort used his fistfuls of Sora’s coat to shake him.

“PUT!!! ME!!! DOWN!!!”

Sora raised an eyebrow. He glanced down to the city below, then looked back at Xehanort and asked, “You sure you want me to do that now?”

“Get me down get me down get ME DOWN!” Xehanort wailed. “I don’t care how or when just don’t linger up here!”

Sora stared ahead, then sighed. He patted Xehanort’s back, “ ‘S alright. This is not like when you were seven.”

Xehanort banged Sora’s shoulder, “Nothing happened when I was-”

“One of those traveling carnivals was in town,” Sora began, “and you got on one of those roller coasters that was a little questionable-”

“Ok FINE! Just-! Don’t remind me and get me down!” Xehanort hissed.

Sora chuckled, “You’re in capable hands though! I’d never drop you!” There was a pause before he added, “Or anyone.” Xehanort just whimpered into his shoulder. Sora looked at him, then leaned a little bit another way, then somewhere else, almost rocking. He kept his grip firm, and tried to be warm amongst the chill.

When Xehanort felt something solid he stumbled forward blindly until he felt a wall and practically hugged it. He could finally breathe again, understand he was thoroughly safe. He finally turned to see Sora idly texting on a phone, brow furrowed. Angels had phones? The baffling sight distracted him from the realization that he was at the clock tower until he noticed the steady thrum of the gears and once again noticed the altitude they were at.

Sora glanced up and stuffed his phone away, “Oh! Yeah, you wanted solid ground and I figured I’d find us middle ground.” He held out his hand, “You won’t fall. Promise.”

He looked almost charming with that quirky and warm smile. The sunlight was caught in his hair and set it aflame. Xehanort didn’t mean to stare, and when he realized he was he took Sora’s hand and looked away. The city was gorgeous. It really was with all the blurs and smears of color from so high up, the networks of roads and alleys and businesses brimming with life.

“My favorite place to hang around when I’m in town.” Sora explained.

Xehanort swallowed. His grip on Sora’s hand became crushing. “Take me home,” He muttered, “please take me home.”

“Hey! You said please!” Sora laughed.

“Formality.” Xehanort hissed, head whirling to Sora. He paused, then wiped at his cheek, “Where did this gold paint come from?”

“Gold paint...?” Sora asked, his own hand raising to do the same while Xehanort inspected his own small sample. He then laughed. Xehanort stared at him. Sora clutched his stomach, wheezing for breath before finally explaining, “T-that’s actually my blood...!”

Xehanort grimaced and attempted to shake the liquid off his hand.

Sora grabbed the hem of his shirt and then Xehanort’s hand and wiped it up, “Yeah... Angels are weird. I’m actually one of the more normal ones, hah! You should see the Thrones and Cherubim, those guys are weird.”

Xehanort yelped when Sora picked him up a second time, “But yeah, I can take you home.”

The flight back was only minutes, darting through pearlescent clouds and full of silence and wind. Sora set Xehanort down on his balcony gently, hovering for a bit. His eyes watched Xehanort for a response, and his mouth squirmed.

“I-I guess I’ll see you later?” He shrugged.

“... I hope not.” Xehanort huffed.

Sora laughed, “Well, that makes two of us, Xeha!” He held a hand to his mouth, then sheepishly asked, “That okay? I-I think it’s a nice... nice nickname.”

Xehanort turned to open the door, shrugging, “I suppose it works.”

He felt the wingbeats as Sora left, and turned just in time to catch another of his feathers.

Xehanort put it on the mantle, on display with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, this chapter got C O M P L E T E L Y rewritten! it's basically why it took forever because I was reworking an entire chapter far more than the usual "let's tweak small things here and there."
> 
> But I'm very happy with the result compared to the last one so HEYoo


	5. Slowly

Sora turned into a weekly phenomenon. Stopping by, even for a moment, to check in and goad on more well-intentioned actions. Breathe some real air, drink water, adopt a puppy. Xehanort was seeing him time after time, still smiling, still pestering, still insisting he stop smoking. Soon Xehanort could only accept Sora would hang over his shoulder for quite possible the rest of his life, and began slowly accommodating for the visits.

Sora walked in, and looked at the board game set up on the coffee table.

“You keep coming,” Xehanort explained, “might as well have some... fun.”

Sora squinted at the colorful setup and large apology plastered across the board. He tilted his head, almost bird-like as he leaned forward with his hands in his pockets. “This what passes for Pachisi these days?” He asked, “Cuz I’ve played that... couple centuries ago.”

Xehanort paused before hesitantly saying, “Not quite. Evolved from it, if you will.”

Sora sat down and eagerly listened to Xehanort explain the rules, and soon, like some divine mistake, he was terribly into the game. Xehanort wondered how someone who could witness anything, everything, likely knew things like the meaning of life, and could _fly_... and yet could be so easily amused by such a simple game, or relish flicking pawns over and back to the starting space.

“You’re... Centuries old, right?” Xehanort asked. His pawn slid hesitantly across the board.

Sora paused. He hummed, “Um... I dunno? I think I’m at least a millennia.” He shrugged, drawing a card and picking up his pieces to move about, “You humans have a weird sense of time to me, sometimes.” He knocked over Xehanort’s piece, “Especially in your big, broad stuff.”

“Have you been here since the start?” Xehanort asked as his hand played his turn on autopilot and slipped away from the game.

Sora began taking his turn, “Um... I dunno. Depends on what you call the start.” His piece landed definitively at the starting ramp of HOME. He grinned, “I think that if you stop smoking you could live as long!”

Xehanort’s eyes narrowed. “You know that’s a lie.”

Sora covered his mouth, gaze an innocent sort of playful, eyes squinted with mirth, “Well, consider it encouragement.”

They both reached for game pieces, unsure of who’s turn was next, and accidentally bumped hands.

...

He spotted Sora in the park next. Still wearing the jacket besides one last burst of summer heart cooking the sidewalk, eating a bit of ice cream with the grace of a labrador retriever as he stared pensively at the crowd.

“On break?” Xehanort asked.

Sora jumped, head whirling to Xehanort and hand reaching for... empty space, honestly. He sighed and laughed, leaning back against the bench and eating another slurp of ice cream, “I guess!”

“Good.” He began walking away.

Sora scrambled after him, “Hey! We can spend some quality time!”

Xehanort shoved off his arm and regretted ever opening his mouth. He kept walking, and Sora did the same in a surprising show of understanding. Occasionally he jabbed his elbow into Xehanort’s side and pointed at some interesting sight, and Xehanort stopped dead in his tracks when Sora ran towards a dog and its owner yelling “GET A LOAD OF THAT DOG!”

The owner, however, seemed to have a much more sour reaction. She saw Sora coming in from a mile away, and she gave a short, snappy command for her dog to stay before holding out her hand, grabbing Sora’s arm, and using the resulting momentum to send him hurtling to the ground in a smooth blur of blue.

She put slight pressure on the arm and Sora’s other hand was smacking the ground, “Yield! I yield!”

“Good.” The woman stood and brushed back her dyed hair, “That’s no way to greet a lady,” she grinned down at her dog, “or her companion.” The dog barked in agreement, and yet a moment later it leaned over for Sora’s hand to scratch at ears without question.

“Umbra!” She teased, but couldn’t help but giggle when the two looked at her with equally dopey grins. Xehanort cleared his throat, and the woman looked at him. “This stray puppy yours?”

“No, but we do have other things to tend to.” Xehanort said in flawless lie. Drawing attention, getting a friend... backdoors to get him found out.

“No we don’t, Xeha.” Sora remarked as he laid back with his hands behind his head, “What’s the rush?”

The woman bent over him, “Well, if there’s no rush, let me introduce myself.” She held out her hand, “Name’s Aqua.”

Sora took it, and soon was being dragged to his feet, “Sora!” His mouth opened into a small ring when he realized that she was about even height with Xehanort, “Wow, you’re tall for a...” He hesitated, and Xehanort could see “mortal” about to pass his lips before he said, “Girl.”

“‘Least I can see where I’m going.” She remarked. Aqua reached into her purse and pulled out a small card, “And I can beat your butt in about a hundred different ways, so unless you want that to be a constant, I can teach you.”

Xehanort swiped it while Sora stared and tried to remember how to read English, and shortly after read aloud to him: “Sifu Aqua, Red Belt Martial Artist.” He met her gaze, “Impressive?”

“Master rank in my discipline.” She confirmed. She winked, “And you guys are welcome for lessons anytime. Even my boyfriend gets them.” Seeing Xehanort’s nose wrinkling at the clear advertisement, she winked, “Gotta pay the bills, and how can I if no one knows my skills?” She picked up Umbra’s leash and rolled her shoulders, “Anyways, I gotta meet with my boyfriend on some stuff, so, I guess see you guys later in the dojo?”

She skipped into a jog and left the two staring.

Sora swiped the business card, remarking, “She mustn’t get much business...”

“Well who needs a self-defense instructor?” Xehanort scoffed right back, “Bit of a niche business compared to something like a supermarket.”

Sora waltzed around Xehanort to strike up his best puppy dog eyes and say, “Come on? Just one lesson? You can use one, get some good combat skills.”

Xehanort arched an eyebrow.

“It’s not a date.” Sora said, deadpan, “Just a bonding activity. Something useful for you, and something I know we can do together.”

“I thought angel were goody goody messengers.” Xehanort teased. The teasing tone vanished when he saw Sora stand straighter.

“Not all of us.” He said. He then pulled up the card, looked at the address, and began walking. “Come on!” He waved Xehanort over in a cheery tone, “Your feet aren’t gonna walk themselves!”

“I think that’s what most would call the very nature of walking, though.” Xehanort sighed, but followed Sora anyways, just to amuse him. Once he tried to turn right around but found himself being dragged along by the scruff of his jacket. “Do we have to investigate today?”

“Do you got somewhere to be?”

“N-”

“Then we’re checking it out.”

A wind chime signaled their entrance to the small dojo. The windows cast open light and illusory open air to the wooden floor covered in thick foam and pleather mats. The bamboo growing in the corners looked like it could’ve been fake, but neither really cared enough to investigate. Small, a little ramshackle, but there was an unmistakable warmth of a small business.

“Hello.” The man at the counter said slowly, continuing to polish it, “If you’re looking for lessons, Sifu Aqua-”

“Pointed us in the right direction then!” Sora finished for the man cheerily. A wry smile appeared on the wizened lips.

“Well, she did, however, due to my age I’ve retired from giving lessons. I am in charge of scheduling, though.”

Sora pouted, but soon shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno, I just felt like checkin’ the place out.”

“I’m his victim.” Xehanort answered for himself in a dry tone. He looked at the pictures sprawled across the wall, all of a girl with mousy brown hair and the very same man in full gi attire, the girl often sporting medals that rarely dipped below 3rd place. She became recognizable the instant her hair became blue.

“Did you teach her?” Xehanort asked the man, “Aqua, I mean.”

The man and Sora had been making idle conversation, but they both paused. Sora glanced at the pictures and smiled- a smile quite similar to the one he’d sported on that very first meeting. He knew something, an in-joke of the cosmos.

“You did a good job.” Sora said, in such a way that it sounded like he just picked up clues from the environment. Or maybe Xehanort was just thinking of a more complicated answer to the fact he may have been genuinely complimenting the woman who threw him over her shoulder, “She’s got a lot of skill.”

“Of course she does,” the man’s grey eyes twinkled with pride, “I can’t have my daughter be anything less than skillful.”

Xehanort glanced at him. Gold and silver locked into place, but Xehanort was the first to look away. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, all too familiar with the mindset. “Nothing less” was a comfortable thing to hear in all the wrong ways. Nothing less than perfect for the perfect crime boss of the city, nothing less than the inheritor of the biggest underground network of Twilight Town with fingers in drug dealing, prostitution, any other black market sales he could think of. Nothing less than a perfect nephew expected to bail out the old man, nothing less than the sweetest young man who’d drive his grandfather home so there wouldn’t be bloody handprints on the steering wheel.

Sora arched an eyebrow at Xehanort.

Xehanort rolled his shoulders and looked out the window.

Sora swallowed, then fluffed his jacket and turned back to the man, “I think we should get going, mister...?”

“Eraqus,” the man said, “And you two boys are?”

“Sora! My moody friend over there is-”

“Of no importance.” Xehanort whirled around and clamped his hand on Sora’s mouth. “You should know I’m not as open with strangers as you, Sora.”

Eraqus lost an amused spark, “Mmm, are you now?”

Xehanort looked at Eraqus, realizing full well he was being profiled. “Jehan.” He muttered, “My name’s Jehan.”

Eraqus set aside his rag and leaned forward, “Well, Jehan, I must say...” He waved one hand to Sora, “I’d stay close to Sora here. He seems to be much more than he initially appears, and I think he’d be a wonderful influence on you.”

Xehanort rolled his eyes. The old man didn’t know the half of it.

...

“You wanna fly again?” Sora had asked straight out of the blue.

Somehow “Never” became “alright”, but only after Sora begged with the widest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

So for now Xehanort’s face was buried in the scruff of Sora’s aviator, trying to imagine he was on a ship instead of having two hands between him and plummeting to his death. It was also cold. Too fucking cold.

“Not so bad, right?” Sora asked.

“Terrible.” Xehanort muttered, “Just take me home.”

“It’s only been 5 minutes!”

“Take me home.”

He could feel the shift of Sora’s fingers. Hesitant, maybe sad.

“Y-you-? ... Alright.”

His balcony was welcome relief, and he instantly found himself bending over the railing and relishing the feeling of something solid beneath his feet.

He felt Sora’s hand on his back, “Doing okay?”

“Fine...” Xehanort muttered, “Fine.” He turned to head inside, “I-I just... I need a smoke-”

Sora stood in front of him, “Nuh-uh! Not when you’ve had fresh air like that!”

Xehanort stared at him, then pushed him aside, “Sora, please-”

“Come on, even with the jacket you gotta remember how crisp and clean it is!” Sora protested, “Wasn’t it nice? Nicer than any of those nasty things?”

Xehanort hesitated.

He neglected to get his planned cigarette.

Within the week the carton was gone.

...

Xehanort leaned against the door, eyes a little wide.

It had been a long time since he’d done a proper job interview. Phone calls were piling up, and while he’d humor the family business he began seeding the idea that having a family member untied to all that shit could be beneficial. Someone blank in the eyes of the law, ready to lie that the person wasn’t wanted, just a friend who looked too similar.

To his surprise, Sora was already waiting outside, staring at the opposing set of apartments outside while leaned against the railing.

Xehanort walked out, leaving the balcony open as he took a place next to him, “You’re welcome to wait for me inside, you know.”

“Yeah, but that’s kinda rude.” Sora conceded, “It’s your space, after all.”

A car honked.

Someone’s air conditioning unit sputtered.

“How do you think you did?” Sora finally asked.

“I don’t know...” Xehanort’s lips formed the phrase as if they’d never said it before.

Sora chuckled, “You did good.”

Xehanort looked at him, “R-really?!”

“Yeah!” Sora gave him a thumbs-up, “Even if you didn’t get the job-” not what Xehanort thought he meant but- “you’re working on getting out!”

He held out his arms, “Though I gotta split. Goodbye hug?”

Xehanort leaned away. His lips crumpled, eyes darted up and down Sora’s form in wide berth.

“Come on,” Sora laughed, “I bet you haven’t had an angel goodbye hug!”

Xehanort hadn’t had much hugs period, and so his arms awkwardly held themselves out. He wasn’t prepared for Sora all but tackling him, and staggered. Tight. Warm. He blinked at the sensation, and felt his puzzled expression slacken.

And then the wings appeared. A second layer of light and warmth and beauty that pushed the noisy city away and created a bubble of sanctuary. Xehanort found himself staring at it in slack-jawed awe more than reciprocating the hug.

And when Sora left he covered his mouth in horror at the warmth in his stomach.

...

“So...” Sora said in a long, drawn out, surprised sigh, “You really still think like that?”

Xehanort shrugged, “Asking for a friend.”

Sora brushed the back of his neck, lips pursed, brow furrowed. He seemed to be giving it a lot of thought. An unnaturally large amount of thought. They let the silence surround them. Eclipse them.

“Well... I don’t have a solid word on the Big Guy’s actual stance,” Sora said, carefully, “I’m not that important, always too busy, and then I also think it’s against the rules to tell you even if I knew, but...” He shrugged, “I can give you my opinion!”

“And?” Xehanort leaned forward, pressing for information, “A relationship beyond platonic between two members of the same sex is...?”

“Alright.” Sora kept it succinct. “Love is love. Sometimes you can’t control who that is, and as long as you’re treating them right, things should be okay.” He leaned forward with upturned palm and declarative finger, “Love is one of the most powerful forces we can know, even up there. It transcends so many things, Xehanort- beyond mere mortality and the physical plain. It’s something that is transformative and beautiful in the right hands, and it shouldn’t be impeded with something as petty as that.” He sighed, “And I keep saying it’s great up there, but really... all we know is what some Greek guy called Agape. Completely unconditional, always the same, never changing, the purest form of love... but after millennia, Xeha....” The way his voice trailed off spoke for him. He continued, “Well, the love you guys have down here can be really rare up there. I think that makes it more beautiful, no matter what the form.”

Xehanort leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. So long, so many years hearing the rhetoric from his family and their attitude and hoping that maybe he just hadn’t found the right girl and now he had a much more definitive and potent answer than they could ever understand. He was fine, fine as he was.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Sora teased, jabbing his elbow into Xehanort’s ribs.

“I-I told you it’s for a friend.” Xehanort mumbled.

The light in Sora’s smile faded. He pulled away and held his arm, “Right. Sure thing.” He stood and stretched, “W-well I... I gotta get going.” He waved before phasing through the door, “‘night.”

Xehanort grabbed a feather from the couch and twirled it.

He set it on the mantle, softly murmuring, “I think it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still alive and makin sure these two noodles aren't just love at first sight and laying more groundwork for things that will happen.


	6. No Luck

The solid concrete of the clocktower balcony felt good on Sora’s back. He stared at what remained of this evening’s sunset, mind whirling.

A buzz, and his pocket jumped around.

[To: Kairi~*]  
[You doing okay?]

Then another buzz:

[To: Gabe]  
[I think it’s almost time to set sail from this one.]

Sora knew instantly which to reply to first.

[To: Kairi~*]

[Yeah.]  
[Just thinkin.]

Sora slowly rolled his thumb over the volume button and turned it up so he could hear the little chime he’d assigned to her: a small, gentle flute.

[To: Kairi~*]  
[Thinking about what?]  
[u and I both know...]  
[tht’s a lot.]

He smiled, and was about to reply when a trumpet announced he was switching chats:

[To: Gabe]  
[Don’t think I’m not catching all that.]

[gimme a break.]

[Sora, we need to do the standard debriefing.]  
[I think you’ve given him a nice kickstart.]

Sora frowned. He laid his phone across his chest, staring at the sky again and wondering how he was gonna negotiate with an Archangel. He went back to texting:

[To: Gabe]

[Look.]  
[He’s not out of the woods.]  
[I’ll start closing this up when he’s out of reach from that stupid family of his]  
[deal?]

Too much time was spent staring at the screen.

[To: Gabe]  
[I must concede, that sounds like a good idea]  
[If he’s going to relapse, he’ll at least have farther to go if he gets out.]  
[I’ll give you a little more time.]

[thanks]

[Also, when are you going to meet your new partner?]

[Never.]

Sora closed that chat thread and went back to Kairi.

[To: Kairi~*]

[Lots of things, yeah]

[need to talk about it?]  
[you always have]

[not today]

[you know what happens when you bottle it up, Sora!]  
[it gets harder and harder to be you]  
[even in so long and so many horrible things you’re still you.]  
[please don’t change on me now]

[don’t worry. I won’t.]  
[ok but]   
[maybe I would like to talk about it...]

...

Sora rubbed the back of his neck. His eye was squinting shut from a black eye in following Xehanort’s exploits today.

He opened his mouth, but it was Xehanort who spoke, “Sora, you came along.”

“And you need to get a better job already.”

The two moped in the silence. Xehanort fussed with bandages. Sora rubbed wounds that had already scabbed and prodded at bruises becoming eyebags.

Xehanort then reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. Ivory handle carved with feathery wings housing a decent sized blade. Small enough to easily hide and use for small tasks, but large enough to do good damage in the right hands and ruin more than one pretty face.

“That’s an okay knife.” Sora grunted.

“It’s yours.” Xehanort offered it.

Sora stared at it before his eyes found Xehanort’s face again. “I can take care of myself-”

“If you’re going to hang around my work,” Xehanort said, tone getting flat, dry, and non negotiable, “then you’re going to need more than your fists, angel or no.”

Sora raised an eyebrow, then gingerly picked the knife from Xehanort’s outstretched palm. He flipped the knife open and admired his reflection. Sturdy blade, mortal metal. It was okay compared to the stuff he’d seen and handled.

“I don’t want you dying or anything.” Xehanort huffed, partly joking.

“Normally I wouldn’t.” Sora huffed back as he pocketed the knife in an inner pocket of his jacket. His hand lingered in the pocket and he fell silent.

It had been a good couple minutes before Xehanort asked, “Define unusual circumstances, then.”

“Mortal injuries I can recover from, and I mean mortal as in something you or one of your friends could do.” Sora fluffed his jacket and began messing with his hair, voice getting technical and distant, “Cuts heal up in an hour, maybe a day if they’re really deep. Broken bones take a little bit longer, probably a couple days, but if I rest and only rest from the moment they’re broken onward I can probably recover in half a day. I think I’ve heard about some of my fellows who’ve regrown limbs, and even bullets can’t stop me for long.”

His wings unfurled, and Xehanort found that Sora wasn’t looking at him anymore, “Only thing that won’t heal are these. Only thing that can really hurt us are metals you can’t find down here. You gotta go deeper and get cold iron from Hell or go higher and grab orichalcum from Heaven.”

There was a grim silence.

“That stuff kills.”

Sora stood and rolled his shoulders. His wings shuffled, beating at the air and trying to find footing in it.

Xehanort shrugged, “Sorry. Welcome to the feeling of mortality.”

Sora snorted. “Says the guy who hasn’t even seen that much death.” His hands hung at his side, “Dude, I’ve seen so many of you... so many people, good friends of mine, and for a blink they’re here, I turn around, and then they’re sick and then they’re just... gone.”

He finally looked at Xehanort again, and Xehanort was reminded just how ancient Sora was. He could see it in his eyes, how suddenly they seemed to sink into him, how deep and dark they were filled with pale spiderwebs of memory. His gaze shone like there was a thousand stars within it lighting the darkness, but also a thousand stars dying out one by one.

“You just don’t know how small you guys are.” Sora said, plain and simple.

...

A heavy-handed knock was all that was needed to make Xehanort frown. It repeated, sporadic, uneven, and practically sounded like a battering ram. Maybe if he stayed silent-

“Lights are on kiddo! Quit ignoring me!” The door yelled at him.

With a disgusted groan, Xehanort got up from the couch and opened his door enough to squint at the older man past the chain. “What do you want?”

“It’s Wednesday, kiddo!” 

Xehanort’s face screwed up at the heavy scent of whiskey. “It’s Thursday...” He muttered dryly.

The man was having none of it, “Poker night!”

“We did this yesterday-” Xehanort protested before a finger jabbed through the door and silenced him into grimacing.

“And I got dirt on you I’d be happy to share with your gramps, so you should know not to deny me my pleasures.”

Xehanort glared at him and had half a mind to slam the door on his hand. One eye was already useless, might as well ruin a hand too. He then snarled, “What do you know? You can’t see for shit even sober.”

“Watch what you say, you backdoor bandit.” He leaned against the door, and Xehanort glanced at the deadbolt to make sure it was staying in place, “I see the goo goo eyes you’re making at that new friend of yours.”

Xehanort snarled, “He’s ONLY a friend-”

“Gramps won’t see it that way~...”

Xehanort kept the stalemate of silence going as long as he could. His hand was white hot iron on the doorknob and to slam the hardwood on that cheeky little-

“Fine. It’s poker night, but house rules.”

“Piece of shit brat.”

“Piece of shit drunkard.”

The man careened through the hesitantly opened door. The ponytail of graying dark hair flicked Xehanort in the face. “Eugh! Xigbar if you don’t behave I’m-”

“Kicking me out of a house paid for by my hard work?” He suggested. Feet were soon propped up on the table, “‘Cuz you’re barely contributing compared to my load.” Xigbar’s thumb prodded at his chest in inflated self-importance, “Money that could be goin’ to MY cut of shit is going to this shitty hole in the wall. All because you don’t have a real job.”

Xehanort folded his arms, “Touche, but it’s grandfather’s money-”

“You think I give two shits about whose money it is?” He drawled, “All I care is that you’re not paying for the place, we are. You’d be a fuckin’ dumbass to try kicking me out.” He pulled out his phone and said, “Anyways, Luxord’s gonna be coming in about five minutes.”

“No, I’m not making martinis.” Xeha hissed at the ulterior motive.

“Fine I’ll make ‘em myself-”

“And no one is making anything because you’re barely sober enough to function.”

The two glared at each other.

A knock, some awkward shuffling, boisterous greeting, and a shuffled deck of cards later, the three were huddled around the coffee table.

Xigbar took a shot as he squinted at his cards. Their new companion- a pierced man with bleached hair by the name of Luxord -smirked.

“You rigged the deck again, didn’t you?” Xehanort muttered.

“If you did I’m putting a bullet through yer skull.” Xigbar hissed.

“Come now, of course I didn’t.” Luxord scoffed. He laid his cards down for a perfect straight flush, “I just have better luck than you.”

Xehanort threw down his pair and Xigbar moaned at his full house.

“I swear you cheat every time.” Xigbar grumbled.

“And yet you keep inviting me.” Luxord said as he grabbed the cards and shuffled them. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“Cuz you and shorty here are the only ones who’ll play with me.”

“And I only play with you because you leverage the fact grandfather has more respect for you than you deserve.” Xehanort made no effort to hide his opinion there. Xigbar was a nifty distraction when necessary, had eyes and ears everywhere, excellent gunmanship, but when it came down to it where his grandfather saw a loyal, worthy pawn he saw a raving alcoholic who didn’t pull enough weight to crow like he did.

Xigbar squinted at his hand before punching Xehanort’s shoulder, “Respect your elders, kiddo.”

“You only HAVE respect because of that temper tantrum that got you in this crowd.” Xehanort hissed back, rubbing the point of contact.

Luxord called. He leaned back and shook his head, “Oh, I think there has to be more than that.”

Xehanort frowned: full house, but going against Luxord’s luck that would likely fall flat. He called the bet anyways, quipping, “Luxord, where you even here when Xigbar joined?”

“Admittedly, no.” Luxord said.

“Don’t listen to the punk then.” Xigbar made a heftier bet, “He was just a kid.”

“I’m surprised you even remember I was there.” Xehanort hissed, “You came stumbling in drunk and raving about how you were a better marksman than the entire city, and were quite a sight when we reasonably denied you.”

“Reasonably?” Xigbar scoffed, “You guys kicked out a valuable asset.” He leaned back, smirking, “Glad you reconsidered though.”

“Do tell.” Luxord set aside his hand, leaning in, “How did they reconsider?”

Xehanort looked at Luxord. His frown grew deeper, “I thought we were playing poker-”

“Well,” Xigbar cut in, “I made them see I wasn’t just bragging about wanting to help them out by-”

“I don’t want to hear the details.” Xehanort cut right back in, snarling, “If you want to pride yourself in showing your disgusting hands then get out of my house.”

Xigbar paused, then slowly cocked his head. “Look, kiddo, I already said it was a dangerous move to kick me out.”

Xehanort stood, “Honestly, you’re making a dangerous move pissing me off.”

“You’re not the boss yet, kid.” Xigbar stood as well.

Luxord scrambled to his feet, “Look, Xigbar, maybe you should head back and you can tell me on the way home-”

“You’re still a young little brat who doesn’t know shit about the world. Not even paying for anything you own here on your own merits!” Xigbar’s hand flashed out, and Xehanort tried to intercept it, but he only found himself holding onto Xigbar’s wrist as fingers clamped down on his jaw, “You just order people around and don’t get your pissy little hands even smudged ‘cuz gramps doesn’t want you getting too smart yet. You’re all talk and no walk!”

“Xigbar! That’s enough!” Luxord began prying the man off.

Xigbar leaned in, and Xehanort felt his eyes almost rolling back at the stench of alcohol on his breath, “You know I can fuck you up six ways to sunday.”

Xehanort shoved him off, and while Luxord restrained Xigbar he grabbed his brass knuckles and at least armed himself. When he whirled around the man was almost on him, and he landed a warning hit with a resounding smack.

There wasn’t even a moment to warn Xigbar, or tell him to get out, because he was passed out on the ground now.

“I’m presuming the game is over now.” Luxord mumbled, picking Xigbar up.

“Over for now.” Xehanort sighed. “He’ll be back, and hopefully it’ll actually be Wednesday when I have the patience for this.”

Luxord nodded, and began leaving with abrupt awkwardness.

Xehanort was left alone, mulling on that night. A decade ago now, perhaps? A man he didn’t know barging in and there was yelling and the stranger held his shoulder and his father ushered him away and there was more yelling and banging and... It was blurry. Time eroded so much that all he knew for certain was yelling, and then a week later the stranger was back with a proper name and proper hire.

He didn’t know what Xigbar did to incur the favor of his grandfather, but he didn’t want to know.

He went to the table to set everything as it was, and noted grimly Xigbar had a royal flush.

...

Xehanort shuffled all the papers and schedules in his arms around. He’d managed to get hired as something sensible, and unassuming. A secretary. He fluttered his lips and looked at everything needing to be sorted out and names to remember and-

A hand carelessly bumped into him, and a few papers spilled.

“Ah! S-sorry!”

While Xehanort picked up his work, a second pair of hands joined in. A couple rings around their fingers, simple and silver, and one hand had a monochrome checkerboard wristband that had seen better, whiter days.

Xehanort lifted his head to accept the help, “Thank you... um...”

A boy, probably still in highschool. He grinned, freckles shuffling around and blue eyes squinting under the shade of messy, golden bangs, “No problem!”

Xehanort stood, looking down at him with a bit of a sneer, “Your name is ‘No Problem’?”

The boy blinked, looking just about as stupid as the turtle with a large button on his green shirt. “O-oh um...” His mouth flapped about like he’d forgotten his name. His hand tugged at his baggy pants, and his worn out, dusty vans tap danced. “R-Roxas.”

Xehanort dusted himself off, “Alright. Thank you for your assistance... Roxas.” He wasn’t convinced that was the boy’s name, but it would do. “Good day.”

He’d gotten about a block down before he heard the steady thumping of footsteps and registered Roxas calling for him, “Sir! SIR!”

He turned on his heel and sharply asked, “What?”

Roxas paused, looking for a moment like a guilty puppy.

“J-just wanted to know...” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and soon both of them were behind his head, “I-if you’ve seen anyone weird today. Like they gave you the creeps.” He lowered his hands to add earnestly, “Or anyone at all lately! If they were suspicious or made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No,” and Xehanort turned back to continue walking home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again working on expanding things and adding shenanigans! I know there's probably only a couple people reading this (if you are reading this thankssss) but I gotta say I'm having fun rewriting this! I feel like I'm reaching my full potential here :)


	7. Grandfather

Sora had the biggest grin on his face when he saw Xehanort again. “A real job! You got a real job!”

Xehanort leaned back with a wry smile, “Come on, not like it was hard.”

“All you gotta do now is cut ties!” Sora said, probably far too cheerfully.

Xehanort was frowning now. That wasn’t going to be easy, and if anything he was probably going to have to juggle things until he got caught. Leaving completely was unimaginable, and even optimistically perhaps the best he’d get was leaving the mortal plane before he officially left.

Sora’s face withdrew from his excitement. He looked at the ground, “‘S true, though.”

“And I don’t think I can.” Xehanort snapped back.

“You just gotta leave! Go to another town and start a new life if you gotta!” Sora protested, “I promise you, there’s going to be something so much more fulfilling if you just-”

“Get out.”

Sora blinked. “W-what-”

Xehanort repeated himself, “Get out.” He shook his head and sighed, “Y-You don’t- You don’t understand-”

“You’re scared to be yourself around your own family!” Sora said, “Isn’t there something wrong with that?”

“And like it or not they’re my family! And not only that, but my family who has more than enough resources to hunt me right back down and keep me here! If you’re only going to be a motivational coach and not give me any ideas, GET OUT!”

Sora looked far more hurt than Xehanort. He sighed.

Xehanort folded his arms, “You don’t understand. You have the wrong perspective to understand.”

Sora couldn’t hold back a scathing comment, “Well maybe that’s the other way around-”

“Just get out already...” It wasn’t even mad anymore. A bitter sigh.

Sora unfurled his wings, and Xehanort felt himself shrink back. A show of who really was who was on display, but the intimidation was lost when Sora purposefully plucked a feather, and held it out. The feather glinted, wavering slightly as it sat upright on his finger in almost perfect balance.

“Look,” he murmured, “Just... take this. It’s different than the others.” His gaze was focused on it as it twirled, occasionally flicking one way only to become upright again. Almost perfectly straight if it weren’t for the imaginary zephyrs toying with it. It took a few moments for him to find his words again, “There’s a bit of magic on it now.” He walked forward, tone dry and a little playful, “The Egyptians had a good idea when they came up with their goddess Maat and her little Feather of Truth.” He paused before quietly adding, “A feather willingly given to determine a heart of sin. Just for you, Xeha.”

Sora flicked his hand up, the feather drifting through the air. Xehanort held out his hand and it landed point first in his palm. It shook wildly, as if there was a strong breeze.

“Give it to gramps.” Sora said simply. “Prove me wrong.”

Xehanort clasped the feather in his hand and looked away, “Just go.”

He missed Sora’s sad smile, but caught the tired, “Alright, I’m gone.”

And when Sora felt cold night air he closed his eyes.

...

Xehanort cleared his throat. It had to be coincidence that his grandfather wanted to see him just so shortly after seeing Sora. He didn’t want to outright admit it, but he had the feather in his pocket. Maybe he wanted to see if it was true.

There was no need for the thugs on guard to acknowledge him more than a soft nod as he knocked, then slipped in with the door barely clicking behind him. He had to hold back a cough from the smoke in the air, suddenly realizing it had been quite some time since he’d smoked himself. His grandfather had the back of his chair turned to him, muttering with someone else about business.

Xeha stayed silent. Hands folded themselves behind his back, and the feather burned a hole in his pocket.

Xehanort dismissed his business partner, and Xeha could see him lean over when someone alerted him of his “favorite” grandson (which was really a useless description since Ansem didn’t have children of his own and Xemnas only had Xeha).

“Junior.” He said, slowly, as he turned around.

“Grandfather.” Simple nod, simple greeting, and he didn’t need more.

“How are you today?”

“I’m well.”

Xehanort had always walked on eggshells in presence of his elder. He had always chalked it up to proper respect and reverence, but with Sora’s outburst earlier... The feather weighed heavy in his pocket.

He hesitantly pulled it out, “Found this today. It’s a wonderful specimen, don’t you think?” It flickered in his hand, but otherwise seemed an unassuming feather save the iridescent sheen too unnatural to be natural, but clearly not man-made.

Xehanort took it from Xeha’s outstretched hand and examined it with the meticulous gaze of someone studying an ancient text.

“Interesting. Do you have any idea what bird?”

Xeha shrugged, “No, which is why it caught my attention.”

A long bout of silence passed as heavy as the smoke in the air.

“I found a daylight job.” Xeha said, slowly, carefully, “So if can pass under the guise of the average citizen... maybe we can make several processes easier.” He shrugged, “Maybe I can start contributing to rent in more than just my services.” His hands were begging him to fuss with the zipper of his jacket, and so he preoccupied them with fluffing it out in mock confidence. “I will be less available, but someone ‘normal’, who could pass undetected... useful, correct?”

The lack of a reply was killing him the way a plastic spoon cut into flesh with the intention to rip out his heart. Slow, agonizing, and far from useful.

“I suppose you’re being useful, junior.” Xehanort said, just as measured, “An outside perspective can give good insight.”

Xeha almost sighed with relief, but instead found himself coughing.

“Speaking of insight, some of our eyes have seen someone new.”

Yep. Too early to be out of the woods yet.

“I’m assuming he put you up to the new job?”

Xeha rubbed his thumb against his clenched fist behind his back, “Yes... H-he’s only a friend who means well.”

“You don’t have friends, junior. Never did, hated crowds.”

Xeha swallowed, “A... new friend. Met at a bar, had a few drinks, and he wanted to try and get me somewhere safer.” He shook his head at the ridiculous thought, “But I’m safest here, with you.”

Xehanort’s voice was becoming gruffer by the second, “Is he even recruited yet?”

“... no.”

“Then why is he hanging around our sensitive drop points?”

Xeha scoffed, “Grandfather-”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

Xeha felt himself beginning to tremble, “My... my apologies, grandfather. I mean to say... if you believe he’s actually a hand of the law-”

“What else could I mean, junior? You’ve lived with me-”

“Since I was born, as you’ve told me many times.” Xeha took a deep breath, “But I’ve dug into everything. Sora isn’t part of any... grand scheme...”

Xehanort had lapsed back into silence.

“He’s putting you up to this, isn’t he?”

Xeha leaned back, “P-putting me up to-”

“Leaving.”

The word made the air freeze, made Xeha’s heart skip ten beats and his throat clench. Too much, too fast, too bare.

“No, of course not-”

Xehanort turned around to finally face Xeha, golden eyes glinting with composed malice, “Correct. You’re not leaving behind the family that put those clothes on your back, gave you that home, gave you this life full of wealth and opportunity.” Xeha was about to agree when Xehanort jabbed a finger towards him, “And I can see it in your face- you were stupid enough to consider leaving.”

Xeha had a split-second choice- protest or yield. He chose yield: “Y-yes, but-”

“And you’re not gonna leave. Not when you’re this deep, not when you’re going to inherit this because your lazy father was only content in pulling the strings of white collar workers.” Xehanort said, standing as a hand slammed on his desk.

Xeha couldn’t stop the flinch, even if he bowed his head and nodded, “Yes, grandfather.”

Xehanort sat back down, leaning into his chair, folding his hands, head raised ever so slightly, “You’re a prodigy, just so easily lead astray.”

Xeha kept his gaze on the floor. Numbness was giving away to waves he was struggling to quell, feelings he couldn’t pin down. “I-I’m sorry he’s just... a friend. I’ve... never had a friend.” And it was true. He didn’t get along with his classmates in school- too smart, too silent, too intimidating. A student to whisper behind rather than actually befriend, and he gave up on any form of socialization early on. When he wasn’t in school he was with grandfather or uncle. Now that he thought of it, Sora...

He felt himself smiling at the thought of Sora’s smile.

“Don’t play coy with me.” Xehanort growled, “He’s starting to be more than a friend.”

Xeha’s shoulders raised. Better than letting him see the horrified look on his face or how tightly his hand clamped on his mouth.

A wad of cash was thrown at his feet, “Poor, starved thing. Get yourself a good girl and remember what real love is.”

Xeha didn’t want to pick it up, but bent down to do so anyways. He flipped the bills with a taut, uncomfortable expression as his calloused thumb rifled over paper. “Th-thank you...” He mumbled more so out of obligation than anything else.

“Say it like you mean it.”

Xeha stuffed the money in his pocket as he said much more earnestly, “Thank you.”

Xehanort turned back around, hissing, “Just take the money. I want that boy gone, I want you to forget about such misguided, disgusting infatuations, and I never want to hear that name again. Are we clear?”

“... crystal.”

The feather had rested flat in his grandfather's hand the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felt like a shorter chapter this time around! it's late, i dont have anything else to add tbh.


	8. Confessions

Sora’s hand hugged the back of his neck, and his eyes watched his phone for anything Gabe had to say. Which was quickly irrelevant when Kairi sent him a kitten and puppy video with a message to cheer up. He chuckled and kept walking, but soon after came to a stop.

“Look, it’s not nice to sneak up on people.”

“Well, what I’m offering to you is not conventionally cordial.” The man stepped out, revealing himself to be Smiles from Sora’s first time tagging along with Xeha. Mar-whatever. He twirled a withering rose in one hand with a small sigh, “If anything, it’s quite rude to call me out like that.”

Sora rolled his eyes, stuffing his phone and quipping, “You’re not part of a conventionally nice crowd.” He turned to walk away, “I got nothin’ for you-”

“Xehanort’s grandson... You both are quite good friends, aren’t you?”

Sora stopped again, snarling out of a sense of loyalty, “Look, me and him know each other, but I’m not tangled up with you guys-”

“And that’s what I offer.”

Sora saw the rose dropped at his feet and felt a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re a true member of our little organization, then perhaps lingering by the side of the Master’s grandson will seem less... questionable.”

Sora continued snarling, “Not a chance-”

“But, you get what you wish, don’t you?” Marluxia continued, “You can stay with the young Xehanort, he can stay with you...” Sora leaned away as Marluxia leaned in, “And we can both change this group from the inside.”

“I’m not any stronger than one of you guys-”

It was at this that Sora felt the cold tip of a pistol’s barrel. He paused, and Marluxia’s demands were an unspoken agreement.

“I can tell you’re more than what you seem-”

Marluxia had no breath to continue, sharply elbowed silent by Sora and quickly hurled over his shoulder. Sora grabbed the gun while Marluxia was down and restrained somewhat by his foot, but he couldn’t stop a bullet being fired. The shot grazed his cheek and clipped his ear, both wounds deep and crimson in less than a second. Unflinching, Sora unloaded the gun. The ammo hit the ground with a cold, hollow click. He kept glowering at Marluxia’s wide eyes, but did nothing more than pin him.

“The answer’s no.” He said, flat and final.

“You can change everything!” Marluxia forced his angle, “You can even turn in all these criminals if you gain enough access-”

Sora spread his wings, and the glow did not bask him in shining sun. His face was left swathed in bitter shadow.

“ _ **No.**_ ”

Sora began withdrawing his wings, and lifted his foot to walk back. “Now leave me and Xeha alone.”

He pulled out his phone, frowning at his new text message:

[[Gabe]]  
[He knows now.]

...

Xehanort took a small sip. Rather than go out and spend his money on some prostitute, he decided to drink. Not all of his funds would got to such, though. He wasn’t stupid, just in need of a buzz to calm his nerves and he wasn’t about to pick smoking back up. The place was small, somewhat tucked away in a corner with flickering neon signs. A poster said on Fridays they had strippers, so there was at least something to tell his grandfather about where the money went.

He looked at the amber liquid. His eyes closed. He hated to admit it felt... lonely without Sora. Too quiet, no urge to look over his shoulder and see the boy there. He needed to start letting go and getting used to the emptiness again. He was not going to incur any more wrath than he had already-

“You look lonely.”

He looked at the young woman who sat next to him. Cropped black hair, black lipstick, black crop top, black everywhere on her sunkissed skin.

Xehanort gave her a cold shoulder, “How do you know I’m lonely-”

“I know everyone, okay?” She said, waving her hand. “No one knows me, no one remembers me, and it gives me all the room to know who’s who.” She playfully tapped his shoulder, “And you, bud, are lonely.”

“I’m not.” He said, and took another drink.

The girl backed off, leaning back in her stool. Something shifted on her in the light, something about her cheeks and the cleverly hidden circles under her deep blue eyes. She fluffed her bangs, “tsk”ing, “I mean, I think it’s kinda a loser thing to do to not have anyone to hang out with when you go drinking.”

“I prefer being alone.” He said, looking away. He drummed his fingers on the counter, hoping the silence would make her leave him alone. He came out to sort things out and get numb, not get hit on by some flirty airhead.

It suddenly occurred to him what he had seen, and turned back to her, “Your makeup wasn’t set right.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she touched just under her eye, pulling the fingers away to scowl while Xehanort only rolled his eyes at confirmation of his suspicions. She cursed under her breath about some “asshole” and how it was “his fault” she had to wear anything at all.

“D-don’t think anything about it.” She snapped. Her hand pulled her drink closer.

“Pretty girl like you deserves someone better.” He said dryly, “Unless you’re stupid enough to linger with him in the hopes he’ll stop hitting you, in which case you deserve it.”

This was met with a slap, and the girl stormed off.

Xehanort quietly paid his tab and left.

...

Sora was already at Xehanort’s apartment when he came back, lounging on the couch as if he owned the place.

“Hey!” A wide, blitheful grin greeted him, “How’d it go?”

Xeha’s hand still held what remained of the wad of cash tight in his pocket the whole way home. He stared at Sora, and his blank stare and tight mouth slowly banished Sora’s smile. Sora looked at the coffee table and tugged at the collar of his jacket. Xehanort slowly scowled and tossed the cash aside as he began making his way to the kitchen.

Sora scrambled over the couch, clumsily and suddenly like a child, and made a beeline from the dollar bills sitting on the small table in the entryway. He picked the cash up, features furrowing. He looked around, mouthing words only he could hear. He stared at a coaster before looking up.

“Not that good?” Sora asked. His voice was faltering.

Xehanort ignored him, starting to wash dishes. The idle task- maybe the alcohol, too -caused is temper to swell in the empty space, and he growled, “Get out.”

Sora turned, voice dropping to a serious octave, “Xeha-”

“I said get out.” Xehanort hissed, “You’re causing more trouble than you’re worth.” A plate was set down upon the counter with a definitive clunk. Shove away. Shove away while it hurt less than it could.

Sora’s gaze flickered to the money, and then it was locked onto Xehanort’s back. More and more clean dishes piled up, and when there was no more Xehanort began recleaning some. He just need to do _something_.

“This isn’t like you.” Sora said softly, and he set the cash down next to an ashtray.

“How do you even know me?” Xehanort scoffed, “You came into my life only, what,” he paused to think, “three months ago?” Three months of dealing with him doting.

Sora paused before saying, “I’ll give you that, but I’ve seen enough to-”

Another dish crashed onto the counter; a wonder that it didn’t break, but he could see the chip that had formed, “You. Don’t. Know me.” His hand was trembling. Sora had gotten close, though. Closer than a lot of people, and that was going to drag him into trouble he’d been trying to avoid his whole life. Could he help it when Sora was asking so often if he was okay? Welcoming his meager attempts at a proper relationship and not one cold and full of business?

But grandfather was watching, always watching for that one moment he would slip up and ready to release the dogs when that happened.

Sora was dangerous, and had overstayed his welcome.

He found himself looking back at his little collection of angel feathers, all from the same pair of wings. He tried to ignore Sora himself, head cocked, a new sort of pain in those beautiful blue eyes. But it was almost like he could see him reflected in the feathers. Almost. He could ignore it.

The reflection spoke, “Xehanort, this isn’t-”

“It’s a side to me I should have already shown you.” He muttered darkly as he turned back around. Let him go. Just let him go. Distance. He’d always been taught distance, keep people beyond arm’s length so no one could stab him in the back- literally or not.

He felt Sora grab his hand, “Xeha-”

“LET GO OF ME!” He whirled around with a roar. The plate slipped from his hands and crashed on the ground. Sora backed up, eyes wide. He glanced at the plate, and made a motion to pick up the mess before Xehanort stepped forward and continued, “You’re getting out of my apartment and you’re leaving me alone! What you’re asking of me is impossible and tasks that would end up with me dead!”

Sora’s mouth slipped into a thin line. He looked down at the shattered ceramic at their feet before he tried to make a joke, “Getting dramatic-”

“No, I’m not being dramatic!” Xehanort began walking forward, “You’re getting out of MY home RIGHT NOW!” Xehanort slammed his hand on the counter to emphasize, “I don’t CARE What God sent you! This is my home and you are leaving!”

Sora looked this way and that, trying to find reasons to stay while his mouth squirmed and begged for him to say something. He only backed up when Xehanort was in his face, continuing to hiss, “Get out!”

Finally Sora spoke, “T-then run away from here-”

“RUN WHERE?!” Xehanort couldn’t stop himself, his composure had finally cracked. He held up his hands, “Where is there to go? How can I get out without anyone finding me?! There is a very real chance that if I leave, there is going to be everyone and their mother hunting me down! I know every single hitman under my grandfather’s employment and NONE of them would fail in finding me-”

“Isn’t there witness protection-”

“For normal citizens not so tangled up in this mess!” Xehanort laughed with the taste of black coffee on his lips as he walked around the couch, “I’m the inheritor of it all, I know it in and out in at least the broadest terms,” he bent over his couch, scoffing and shaking his head, “there is no way I wouldn’t be an accomplice! Going to the law is going to jail.” And that he would not stand for. He’d slipped from it this far, he wasn’t even seeing the doors.

Sora fell silent with the most pitying look in his eyes.

Xehanort stood and turned back to his dishes, trying to hide the way his brow was creasing, the tears of desperation in his eyes, “I’m trapped, and stuck with this life, and there is nothing short of a miracle you can do to get me out. I-I just have to live with it, survive and thrive under these terms.” Maybe. Oh, God, maybe. If there was ever a word he hated more.

Ceramics crunched under his shoes, and immersing his hands in the warm, soapy water was more than he could ever want right now. He sank, immersing his arms up to his biceps if only to try and cling to the numbing warmth. The clean scent of soap burned into his nostrils.

“I want to help you.” Sora said, slow, measured, “I want to make it okay.”

“How?!” He bitterly snapped, “How do you intend to make it better, more pep-talks?” He turned from the sink, tossing bubbles one direction while he scoffed, “Words do not make anything in an instant, Sora.”

Sora shook his head, walking through the dish on the floor himself, “Words hold power, Xeha. A slow, old power you aren’t seeing.”

“No, I see it because my grandfather thinks we’re-” Xeha’s throat seized up. “That we-” He turned around, gaze torn between angry and despairing and finding some sort of compromise in confused, “You and I... shared time and words and...”

Xehanort closed his eyes and swallowed before spitting back into the sink, “He thinks we’re _lovers_ , chrissakes.”

Sora nervously giggled, loud and obnoxious and mocking and grating on Xeha’s ears like nails on chalkboard. It wasn’t his usual laughter full of bells, it was an ugly, mocking guffaw. Like he found the very concept ridiculous. Maybe even the concept of lonely Xeha finding love in just three months.

Xehanort felt his face screw up, and he turned away, “And he doesn’t approve and I know he’d disown me if he did and if that happens I have nothing.” He raised his head, grabbed at his hair, “I’ll have NOTHING! I’ll start all over and scramble just to SURVIVE! Regardless of opinion I’ll be left with a fall so high it will make Lucifer’s look tame.” He took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control, trying to shove the helpless whining down, down, down. “A-and I don’t even KNOW if it’s going to be okay... to...”

Silver strands tricked through his lowering fingers, “When I... love...” his shoulders slumped, hands lowered, and all anger had burned away to leave plaintive ashes. Admit it. He had to admit it or the weight would eat him alive the rest of his life.

“ _You._ ”

Sora’s face became the picture of surprise. Eyes wide, mouth slack. He could almost be rendered in minimalistic dots and lines and the expression would remain with hardly an edit. It seemed to take a moment to sink in but when it did his wings flew out and he staggered against the couch. He was staring at his feet, likely floored by the fact someone had fallen in love with him. Xehanort prepared for a “I can’t love a mortal” sermon.

He internally began chewing himself out for even thinking admitting it was a good idea. Perfect idea to just admit it. The embarrassment and thought of rejection was too much to bear, too much to process, and he began sprinting for the door, “Excuse m-”

He hardly passed Sora before he was grabbed with a squeal of joy, and next he knew he was being twirled around in a dizzying blur alongside Sora’s laughter. They rolled into an awkward heap on the couch, Sora practically roaring with delight while Xeha squirmed and tried to make sense of his numbness.

“Perfect, just perfect!” Sora said, in honest truth and not a hint of sarcasm as he turned Xehanort around on his lap. His wings stuck out awkwardly, one draped on the couch and the other bumping things off the coffee table. The light of them made his blue eyes shine.

Xehanort blinked, slowly, frowning at how naturally his hands were resting on Sora’s chest, “I-I don’t-”

Sora dragged him into a messy, sudden kiss. After a moment of shock, Xehanort felt himself melt. Probably into something drippy and gooey like melted chocolate, and all at Sora’s soft lips and warm hands and-

“W-why...?! What’s going on?” He mumbled, finally, suddenly pulling away.

Sora was already panting a little, but he couldn’t stop grinning. He let out a small chuckle, running his hand along Xehanort’s cheek while his eyes darted about over everything. “Because we fell in love.” He said simply.

“We?” Xeha asked.

Sora held his cheeks, “We, right?”

Xeha paused. In return he gently brushed the healing cut on Sora’s cheek, wondering in silence where it had come from. A twinge of worry.

Well.... The way Sora smiled at him, the way those big blue eyes begged the way a puppy begged for a scrap of food. Xeha felt the knots in his shoulders unwind, his worries about being found out started fading. Careful. He could do careful and he just had to be careful.

He smiled.

“We.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long! The two scenes at the beginning weren't even here originally and I just didn't want to leap into those doki dokis yanno. It was a bit hard to get the pacing right and even then IDK if it's perfect but eh good enough 4 me 4 now.
> 
> But anyways I'll try and get another chapter up tomorrow? please leave a review?


	9. As Brief as a Setting Sun

[To: Gabe]  
[Sora?]  
[Sora, you know this isn’t how it works.]  
[This is never how it works.]  
[I am all for love, but this is extreme.]  
[You were always a special one, but please this is unorthodox.]  
[It’s... dangerous.]

Sora didn’t catch the messages, or the phone vibrating on the dresser. He was too busy giggling, tangled up with Xehanort. His wings were constantly shifting around, trying to find a comfortable spot around the two of them, knocking things off the coffee table or leaving Xehanort with a face full of feathers. They eventually settled into a place where Sora felt like the world was just him and Xehanort, and nothing else seemed to matter, sheltering them from their tiny world.

Sora settled his head against the arm of the couch. “It’s... nice...” He closed his eyes, and basked in the glow. 

Xehanort was laying against his chest, and honestly... he felt warm. Sora’s hands were more nimble than his, fit in as the smaller pair when they held hands (like they were now, lazy and yet so tightly knit), but the one on his back spoke of more love and care and safety than he’d ever felt in great weight and heft.

“I think it is, too.”

...

[To: Kairi~*]  
[Sora?]  
[Is everything okay?]  
[Please don’t tell me you’re thinking with your heart and not your head]  
[again.]

Okay, so Xehanort had set down some very strict and clear guidelines about PDA outside the apartment, but since when did Sora care about rules? They were window shopping, Xeha was occupied with a rather nice looking watch, so it was easy enough to slip over and kiss his cheek.

He giggled at the offended look, but quickly apologized. “Can’t help it when you get that look on your face!”

Xeha rolled his eyes, and said sternly, “Sora, you know that I told you not to. It’s for our safety.”

“Okay, sure.” Sora put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. He wandered down the street, letting the moment fade away while he ogled a ice-cream stand’s wares. He held the enraptured look of a child at the cold sweets, or maybe one of a very enthusiastic predator. Either way he was going to be eating that ice cream some way somehow. He began patting his pockets for money, wondering if maybe he should use a minor miracle-

“Two bars of sea salt, please.”

Sora blinked at Xehanort’s hand setting down a few bills, and grinned right back at the young man’s somewhat awkward smile of encouragement when he held Sora’s treat out. “T-this is being friends. Doesn’t count.” Xehanort explained.

It was Sora’s turn to roll his eyes, but soon about half the bar was demolished in the wake of his sweet toothed enthusiasm.

“Sora, if you don’t slow down you’re going to make yourself... uh...” Xehanort faltered, wondering how similar their anatomy was, “sick?”

Sora laughed and patted Xehanort’s back, “Yeah, I guess! T-there was this one girl- pastry chef, little hard on herself, needed some self-love -and man, Kairi always got on my case when we met up and I was moaning about all the sugar in my system...” He trailed off, his smile vanishing.

“You haven’t met Kairi, have you?” He asked.

Xehanort shrugged, “I-is she... like you?”

“Yeah, she’s an angel.” Sora clarified, “I got a lotta mortal friends, but... Kairi’s been there since day one.” He paused to savor a bit of salty sweet ice cream, lick a bit of the melted bits off his hand. “Really nice. Works mostly with kids in bad situations.”

Xehanort decided maybe he wouldn’t see her as Sora fell completely silent. A heavy, somber silence replaced his idle chat.

“A-are you sure this is... alright?” Xehanort asked. He hadn’t thought of the repercussions of him being something so ostracized from someone so fantastic like Sora.

Sora was scrolling through messages on his phone, face hard-set and hard to read.

“Sora? Is this alright?” Xehanort asked again.

Sora shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed Xehanort by his shirt for another brief, dangerous kiss. He smiled when he backed away, “Had a little somethin’ on your mouth.”

Xehanort scoffed, “Says the one who has lips that taste like salt now.”

...

[To: Gabe]  
[Sora, PLEASE.]  
[This has gone on long enough.]  
[I am sure Xehanort has changed enough to stand on his own and get the rest of it done.]  
[Come to your senses and remember who you ARE.]

Cuddling on the couch and watching barely passable entertainment had become something of a pastime for them. The popcorn was generally a cheap variety, but a worthy deal considering the price had gotten the moments they tossed bits of it into each other’s mouths, and even the klutzy times when Sora stood excitedly and ended up spilling it everywhere.

The B-flick of the night was some atrocious film with terrible acting and a beyond lackluster plot, but Sora was enraptured in mindless enjoyment or howling at Xehanort’s dry commentary. He snuggled up after a good chuckle trickled away, then looked down at the popcorn bowl in his lap.

“Want to watch something else?” Xehanort asked. “Because I do.”

“Mmm, if you want.” Sora replied. He ate a bit more popcorn and chewed thoughtfully.

Xehanort felt his gaze wander from the television to Sora when he saw him do what he thought would never happen: he took off his jacket. He’d treated it so carefully, never took it off, and yet here Sora was wrapping it around them both. Xeha was stiff as a board as Sora tucked the large mass of leather and fleece around them and snuggled up in the crook of his arm.

“... Lil sleepy.” Was all he said to explain himself.

“Well...” Xehanort hesitated. He rubbed Sora’s back, not used to feeling the curves of it so intimately even with just a t-shirt in the way. If he raised his hand, he could feel a ghost of Sora’s wings- like some sort of heavy mist. Smaller than he thought they would be, actually. Experimentally he brushed against the direction of the feathers. Sora shuddered, and did so again as Xehanort smoothed them down.

“If you’re sleepy, we can just go to bed.” Xeha finally suggested.

Sora nodded in agreement, and Xehanort quietly turned the TV off. Sora clung a little tighter, but rolled off easily enough when Xeha stood and sleepily stumbled with him into his bedroom. In bed, Sora wrapped himself around Xehanort as if he’d done so his whole life.

They shared a goodnight kiss, but it was far more blissful and wonderful than that.

...

[To: Gabe]  
[SORA HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHO YOU ARE? WHAT YOU ARE?]  
[I’m giving you a week.]  
[Either you’re gone or he is.]  
[I promise. This is for your own good.]

Sora sat on the edge of Xehanort’s bed. He read over Gabe’s texts, slowly at first, but then he read them again. And yet again. His sleepy expression became more and more concerned with every reread. His wings- they must have come out some point in the night to make a small nest for them both -silently tucked themselves away, and vanished. 

He looked at Xehanort over his shoulder. The young man was still asleep, hair carelessly streaked over his face while a bit of drool snuck between the corners of his lips. Sora wiped it up, giggling under his breath, before he pressed a quick kiss to Xehanort’s forehead and got up.

He paced.

Looked at his phone.

[Either you’re gone or he is.]

Sora put it firmly on the dresser with a loud tap.

Xehanort snorted from the bed, and mumbled something.

Sora rushed back over, intently watching to see if Xehanort woke up. After a moment where he was sure Xeha was still asleep, he walked back to where he was and continued pacing. He began praying.

A buzz. New text. Sora angrily snatched the piece of plastic, metal, and digital data.

[To: Gabe]  
[You know there is a way to stay with him.]  
[He doesn’t have to die.]  
[No one does.]  
[Not the best method, per say, but you have a choice.]

[Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face?!]

Sora threw the phone away in a fit of wrath. It shattered on the tile of Xehanort’s kitchen as if he’d just thrown glass. He grabbed at his face, trying to staunch the hateful speech slipping from his lips, and then lurched for the sink and splashed cold water in it. He needed to calm down. He was going to be fine. He had a week, after all. He could get things done in a week. Lots of things done in a week, sure.

Weeks were blinks to someone who had lived so long, though. A week might not be enough.

Sora finally sobbed a little. Why did this happen? Why did he tumble so head over heels, like a wave had come and turned every sense around? It was stupid, and now in a week Xeha was going to be gone. Unless he did something. He could definitely do something. It was extreme, and a last resort he couldn’t undo, but he could do something. He could keep Xeha. He couldn’t lose him again.

“Sora...?” Xehanort sleepily called, “I-I heard something breaking...”

“Got mad at my phone.” Sora replied, “You can sleep.”

Xehanort shuffled over, “You okay...?” He rubbed Sora’s back, “T-this about last night? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Sora, bent over the sink, closed his eyes and smiled, or at least tried to. It looked old, weary. “Everything’s gonna be great.” He began walking out, “Look, I... I got a meeting to go to. Higher-ups want me around for a week, sheesh.”

Xehanort watched Sora put his clothes on with mild, bleary interest, “Hmm? A week?”

“Equivalent of a hour meeting for you.” Sora curtly explained. He rushed over and kissed him, “Look, I’ll be back in a week, okay? I promise.”

Sora was out the sliding door and on the balcony, and then off of it, and then gone, all before Xehanort could finish saying, “Okay, Sora.”

Xehanort sat there a moment, troubled, but eventually shuffled back into bed and went to sleep.

Sora went right on thinking about his options, hoping the cold air and some advice would get him straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is allllllll kinda slow going, so for anyone who's following this (what like, 3 people?) sorry about that! Been in a bit of a creative slump and spending most of my time writing for my rp blog.
> 
> but hey have fluff...ish.


	10. Daze

Kairi put her hand on her cheek, “Yeah, it’s a tough call. I can’t blame you for wanting to take some time.” She leaned over the railing of the clocktower, her ruby hair falling off to the side, “But Sora, I’m gonna say it where you can actually hear your doubt: are you really sure-”

“I’ve never been more sure.” Sora cut her off. “Even after meeting so many people, even after getting close only to find out I was wrong.” His voice was firm with resolve. He was glad Kairi had been able to find time to talk with him face to face, but he didn’t ask for her insufferable habit of playing the devil’s ironic advocate. She knew him, she knew what he trusted and believed in. He didn’t really see a point in her constantly showing the doubting opinion.

Kairi fiddled with the cowrie shell star on her necklace. She did this for quite some time before saying softly, “Gabriel didn’t appreciate that text.”

“If he’s gonna tell me that’s one of my options he better tell it to my face and not just some text.” Sora spat, “We both knew exactly what he was saying.”

“Gabriel is busier than we’ll ever be.” Kairi said, her tone gaining a motherly sort of warning.

“He’s also more than we’ll ever be.” Sora countered, “I think he can creation alone for five seconds just to tell me I can either let go or get lost.”

Kairi shook her head, “He’s worried about you, that’s the honest truth,” and there she went again, defending, “but he’s dealing with things on a scale larger than we can imagine. Maybe he can’t spare five seconds to tell you face to face, but he can spare a text. That’s better than nothing.”

Sora scoffed, “If he’s gonna put that much effort in why bother?”

Kairi grabbed Sora’s arm, forcing him to look at her, “Sora, for you to gain what you seek you MUST fall, and you won’t be able to come back. No one comes back.” Sora glared at her, but didn’t force her arm away. Kairi glared at him right back, unflinching, “You and I both know that. You have to be absolutely sure, okay? You can’t have both worlds.” She looked down, “Gabriel does care. He doesn’t want to lose you for a false lead and watch you suffer down here.” She sighed, “I don’t want to lose you. We’ve both lost enough, you know what it feels like.”

Sora stared at her, then shook his head, “Are you just saying that because Gabe’s throwing a hissy fit-”

“Gabriel does not want to lose another of his comrades, Sora! And for all your talk about losing him you’re not considering that I lost him, too! And I don’t wanna lose you!” Kairi yelled at him. “This isn’t like you-”

“Gabriel wasn’t there when it happened!” Sora yelled right back, yanking his arm from her, “That was when we were under Michael’s wings! So Gabriel doesn’t know-”

Kairi slammed her foot down, wings extending in a dizzying rush of brilliant scarlet light, “SORA THAT IS ENOUGH!” Sora backed up, mirroring the gesture and letting his own wings fly out in surprise. Kairi looked like she was about to continue chewing him out only to gape. She stared at Sora’s wings for a moment of disbelief before she walked forward, slowly, lips parting for her to gasp, “Sora...?”

He took a step back, “W-what?”

She stopped her advance and stepped back herself, “When were your wings so dim?”

Sora’s eyes widened, and he staggered to get a better look- “T-they’re- they’re not don’t even-”

“Sora they are...” Kairi said, whispering in horror. It was true. Sora’s wings were bright, yes, but it was a paltry glow compared to how Kairi’s emitted light like a floodlight. Nothing could quite capture the slow movement of Kairi’s hand over her mouth, the way Sora’s wings sagged as he stared at the walkway. 

Kairi found her voice again first, “See?! This is why Gabriel’s right-”

“And you know what?! Maybe perfection is overrated!” Sora barked at her. He paused with a guilty look before backing up slightly and leaning against the wall. His wings folded themselves around him. “Maybe it’s not what I want anymore.”

“You have what might as well be a death wish then.” Kairi said. “Sora, if you make this choice we can’t take you back, and there’s no escaping it.” She held out her hand, “Or, we can put a stop to this now, and you can stay.” She tilted her head, “Please? I-it’s not too late, okay? W-we just gotta-” 

Sora walked past her and rubbed the edge of the railing. Such a short time ago he was offering to fly Xeha around, and the trust he expressed with him doing something he was so scared of-

“X-Xehanort he...” Kairi trailed off. She shook her head, and turned around. She left the thought in the air as she stood on the railing, hair flying behind her, practically on fire in the light of her macaw wings, “Sora, I’ve told you countless times: think before you act. Your heart has good judgement, but you let it control you more than it should. It’s a miracle you haven’t fallen already-”

Her lips were parted, about to say more, but Sora rushed up to the edge, jumped off, and soon she was left staring at a brief and passing trail of feathers.

...

Xehanort found the apartment and bed sorely lacking while Sora was gone. He got up for work- normal and criminal alike in a careful juggle of scheduling -to find no cheery humming or pile of feathers left behind (angels actually shed a lot more than he thought they would). He came back and there was no tv already on or Sorry! Game set up. 

And oddly he found himself doing the very things Sora would do, even after a day or so. Whistle during dishes, watch absolutely banal entertainment with an attempt at genuine interest, and he even pulled out an older jacket of his that still fit him. It was a bit too warm, but ultimately more than reassuring.

He was also never one to leave the house much and found himself going on a morning walk, evening walk, a place with fresh air. Sora was going to be gone for a few more days, might as well surprise him? Xehanort found himself glowering at anything in a window, and first glance it appeared to be contempt for what wares he’d seen.

It was more contempt for himself for not knowing what Sora would want.

It was a passing glance out of the corner of his eye, and then a weak attempt to walk away before an arm was slung over his shoulder, “Kiddo!”

Xehanort shoved Xigbar off, “You know how I feel about us meeting in broad daylight.”

“Sickened,” Xigbar started with mockery dripping in his voice, “disgusted, yeah, yeah, I know.” Xehanort walked far enough ahead that Xigbar had to walk even with him to catch up, “Look, at least I’m sober.”

“Sober or not your very presence offends me.” Xehanort bit back, “So unless you have important news, begone.”

“Well, have you kicked out your roommate?” Xigbar shot right back.

“Yes.” Xeha kept it just to that and neglected to add that Sora kicked himself out for personal business.

Xigbar tapped his chin, and jumped ahead to cut Xehanort off. “Weird, cuz Marly met him just the other day.”

Xehanort would’ve stopped if he hadn’t already. “Sora what?”

“Sora! So THAT’S his name!” Xigbar triumphantly crowed. “And I suppose this same Sora has blue eyes and brown hair?”

Xeha mentally backpedaled and groaned. He then weakly protested, “Sora is a gender neutral name, I may have been talking about a female companion of mine.” But his head was reeling. Was Marluxia summoned as a hitman or was this as contrived as Xigbar made it sound? Was his grandfather truly that pissed off? He felt the wind push him around, his stomach hollow enough to catch it as he scrambled for a means out of that mess.

“Not when I mentioned ‘him’,” Xigbar chuckled. He leaned back over, “not like you have many friends anyways.”

Xigbar left, apparently satisfied with the knowledge that Xehanort’s stomach was turning.

...

Sora squinted at some human script on the door (English? Maybe it was English? He couldn’t focus on the words, on those small little glyphs, he couldn’t focus on the language) and opened the entrance to the small dojo. It was oddly emptier than he thought, and he felt his footsteps freezing up in hopes that maybe he hadn't barged in. Sometimes he just unlocked things, sometimes he forgot that humans had this sort of “space” thing to them and they didn’t like intruders. He fiddled with the card in his pocket, pulling it out with trembling hands and rereading the address except he couldn’t and nothing was in Enochian-

It took Aqua several moments to pause her forms and notice him. She straightened, and her brows quirked at the sight of Sora shuffling in. Her gray eyes did a double-take between door and Sora, trying to find out just how the scrappy boy had wandered in. She muttered something under her breath, and walked past Sora as she fiddled with a silk belt to pull out keys and lock the door. Probably again. Sora held his arm and turned around, ready to leave.

“After hours, but I guess I can give you a lesson.” Sora felt himself sag with relief at her bright, joking tone. Sora’s laugh was weak, and his hand tousled his hair.

Aqua went behind the counter, a soft look on her face. “But...” She pulled out a thick foam target. She walked over and took a well-braced stance, “I got a feeling you need to get a few punches in.” 

Sora’s shoulders raised and he blinked. His gaze darted left and right for a moment before he shrugged, “U-uh, i-if you’re closed-”

“Okay, first off,” Aqua held out her hand, “I insist. Not gonna teach you anything unless you need it.”

Sora gave a bare nod.

Aqua nodded back, “Second, I’m gonna trust that you know what you’re doing. You do, right?”

Sora carefully pulled up a fist. He looked at it, frowning slightly with furrowed brows. “Uh, yeah. H-hand to hand. I know it. Kinda.”

Aqua blinked, as if a few gears had fallen into place, and she snapped her fingers, “Oh! Now I know who you are! You’re that kid who Umbra liked.” She tapped her temple, mining for the name, “Uh... I-it was-”

“Sora.”

She nodded, “Right. Sora.” She tilted her head with an amused smile, “How’s the grump?”

“... Uh... good.” Sora shrugged.

Aqua held out the target. “Break up? I bet he was an asshole anyways-”

“No! H-he’s not...” Sora shrank from his stance, “I just... needed to think about the next step.”

Aqua waved the target in his face again. She leaned out from behind it with an encouraging smile. “Punching my problems out always helped.”

Sora squinted at it, wondering if something so small or silly would really help when the decision he was facing was so-

“You know you wanna...” Aqua teased. Sora humored her with a halfhearted bap. She leaned bac with it anyways, but then pushed right back. “Punch it.”

“I don’t see how-”

“Actually punch it.” Aqua said, her voice dipping into something sharp and serious. “Hard, but don’t go overboard, okay?” The softness returned with a sly wink, “I’m only human.” She didn’t understand. She never would. That was enough to force Sora into a furious punch, one that sent Aqua stumbling. She gave him a warning glare before saying softly, “Okay, what’s up? I’m no therapist, but something big, right?”

Sora looked at every line in his skin, the dozens of myriads of cracks that turned it into a mosaic and perfect imitation of mortal flesh. His knuckles were pink, protesting the rough treatment of being forced against vinyl and foam.

“Is he the one?” Sora asked. Even admitting the crisis of faith made his fist tighten, made his blood boil. He knew what he wanted, he was just a coward who couldn’t commit. Aqua was right, punching did solve some problems.

Aqua shrugged, segueing easily into rolling with another punch from Sora as he settled into a rhythm. The kid was lanky, sure, but hit like Terra after a bad day full of dead ends. “I dunno. The one is- nice -a kinda relevant thing- so... maybe- oof -you should- jeez -date around a bit-”

“Can’t.” Sora said, pausing after a strong left hook. Upon seeing Aqua’s puzzled look, his gaze darted around for an excuse. “... my religion is extremely monogamous.”

“So he has to be the one.” Aqua noted. She set aside the target, but Sora was a few steps slow and threw a punch. Reflexes kicked in, and she blocked it, leveraged his arm with the block, elbowed him in the solar plexus, and knocked his leg out from under him to let him spin around the leverage and onto the ground with a remorseless thud.

The two met eyes.

“I’m not gonna help you back up unless you get your head on straight.” Aqua said.

Sora sat up, leaning on his elbows, “My head's on straight-”

“You can tell yourself that.” Aqua squatted down, a frown dragging her features from youthful to incredibly old, “Look, I get it, it’s hard, but one person isn’t worth-”

“Worth what?!” Sora snapped, “Like you get-”

“You got a very careful decision to make.” Aqua said, her voice entering “sifu mode” again, “I don’t exactly agree with the one chance you get, but if it’s bothering you this much, then...” She sighed, losing her words. Aqua sat down. Pursed her lips. “try backing out for a bit.”

“I don’t have a bit.” Sora sighed as he fell back against the mat. Tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t have the time I need.”

Aqua leaned back against her arm and stared at the wall. “Alright... Talk to me about your boyfriend, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quietly adds a chapter after like. half a year.*
> 
> this was getting big so I split it to keep suspense and HOPEFULLY I can start updating more regularly but tbh life is tiring and a rp blog is much more manageable writing than long chapters for a fic that people probably won't even really look at, sorry guys


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